Masque: The 42nd Hunger Games
by CelticGames4
Summary: After the 41st Games took one of Panem's spunkiest Head Gamemakers, filling her shoes seems to be impossible. Will the 42nd Hunger Games be a spectacle to remember or will they crash and burn? Twenty four go in, and only one will come out. Follow six unique tributes and a quirky Head Gamemaker on the quest to survive. Rated T for Hunger Games.
1. Prologue

I wake up to loud crying. I roll over and groan, mumbling a quiet, "Your turn," rolling back over and covering my head with a pillow.

Nobody moves. I sigh and get out of bed, rubbing my eyes. Who's idea _was_ it to have children!?

Kelley is awake and at the door. He always appears when the children cry.

It's pretty unconventional, for a couple of Capitol parents to raise a kid on their own, wake up and care for them in the night. But… Well, let's just say that I don't always see unconventional as being so bad.

Usually waking up in the wee hours of the night is the Avox's job. But they're our children, and it's our job to care for them.

I pick up Deck.

Well, it's mine.

Solitaire's dead, after all.

It was really sudden, too. After Milonius was replaced by Snow, it was only a week or so before Solitaire was killed off. I guess he didn't like unconventional. He must not have liked how she ran things. I still have no idea why he wouldn't like her. She was a star. She dealt with what she needed to deal with. She took care of things.

Well… There was a specific instance in 36 where things didn't quite go according to plan. But she didn't tell me anything about it, and she said she had it under control… I trusted her.

I don't know why Snow was so adamant about having her gone.

Deck falls back asleep, his chubby little arms wrapped around my neck. Every day Deck and Singe do things that remind me of her. She used to bring them into work with her, every day, she never left them with Avoxes. That was our promise when we decided to have a child. One of them was expected, the other was a total surprise. The joys of twins.

Deck and Singe, named after two of Solitiare's most successful Arenas. Singe was named after the 37th Games, a volcano of lava that erupted on the tributes and left them gob-struck. The magma was so beautiful, though, and unforgettable.

Deck was named for Solitaire's first and greatest Games. The 36th Games were a hit. It didn't matter that none of the tributes wanted to hurt each other, the emotions were at a high and Solitaire used that to make the most relatable tributes of all time. And, of course, the unexpected victory of the Joker, Gio Piccozzi. He went around preaching his gospel that everything is possible, and became a beacon of hope and sunshine. So many people idolize him.

But then, so suddenly, she was just… Killed. I still don't know why.

I put Deck back in his crib, looking in the other crib to make sure Singe is still sleeping. Then, I go back to the master bedroom.

"Go back to bed Kelley," I yawn. I never thought I would've actually started calling my Avoxes by name. It's weird, what love does to you. It's especially weird when you were worst enemies with the one you love for no reason other than she whooped your ass.

I sit on the bed, and pick up the cards she used, still fresh with the handwriting of the tributes' names. I flick through them and I feel Kelley sit on the bed.

 _I miss her too. Would you like to play a game with me, Sir?_

"Oh… Uh, alright… What do you like to play?"

 _War?_

"Sure. You can sit." He sits cross-legged on the bed and I shuffle out the cards. War is a game that can take forever, but I have time. I don't want to go back to sleep.

I'm the one that's going to replace her. I've been replaced with a new young hot-shot named Caesar Flickerman. My green notebook sits under the cards, full of sketches of the next Arena.

I have everything I ever wanted. After all, isn't this the job I was trying for to begin with? All I ever wanted was to beat out Solitaire and steal her position.

I've dreamt of this day.

And it's hell.

I never wanted this. Well, maybe I did, back when I was young and stupid. I would do anything to have Solitaire back by my side. I would interview pretentious, intolerable, sarcastic, snarky tributes for the rest of my life if I could have her back by my side. Life's just cruel and ironic like that, huh?

My goal this year is to play it cool and just survive. If I just survive this year, I can peacefully retire and go back to my boys alive. Right now, I don't care about fame or glory. I only care about staying alive and being there for Deck and Singe. They need me. I'm a single father, and a pretty crappy one at times, but I refuse to let my sons be orphans.

If I can just make a simple, quiet, good enough Games, I can escape with my life and my family and not have to continue living the nightmare that killed the love of my life. That's all I need at this point.

Kelley and I flip cards and go back and forth for at least an hour before it's even remotely okay to get up. It's five or so, and I know Deck and Singe will be awake soon enough. Besides, today's my big interview day, right?

I send Kelley off to get ready for the day and wash my face, trying to wake myself up, shaving, and brushing my teeth. Then I get dressed in my nice suit and tie, and run a brush through my now dark red hair. Red like blood. They said this would be a good angle for me. I said that I refuse to have my hair the same color as Solitaire's, so we settled on a dark maroon.

I put my glasses on, and then I hear Singe screaming and go to take care of the boys. After all, after all Solitaire did to help them I can't just let the legacy stop. I take both of them, one on each hip, and put them both in their high chairs for breakfast.

"How about some bananas?" I go to the cupboard to get food, putting the babies into their bibs and trying to spoon-feed two very messy and very reluctant eaters at once. After breakfast, I put on the baby carrier, putting Deck in the front, and Singe in the back. Then, I take my bag with me, putting my pencils, notebooks, and supplies in, and head off to work.

It's going to be another horrendously long day.

 _ **A/N: Look at the summary to this story. Look at the word "PARTIAL." One of your tributes is not going to win. Don't like? Don't submit then. But don't review saying "nobody will submit if their tribute won't win." Because I know. And the fact still stands that one of mine will win. Please. Don't review saying that one of mine shouldn't win. Sorry if I wasted 1000 words of your time but really, please don't review saying it's dumb that one of mine will win. I still do everything for my submitters. Sorry this was super pissed-sounding, but last time I did this I got a couple of shit reviews and I want to avoid that.**_

 _ **Now that THAT's over, let me welcome you to Masque: The 42**_ _ **nd**_ _ **Hunger Games! This is somewhat a sequel to my other stories about the 36**_ _ **th**_ _ **Games and the 41**_ _ **st**_ _ **Games, but you don't have to read either of those to understand this, no worries!**_

 _ **So, the rules and form and junk are on my profile, so if you're interested please read those first. I'm sorry, but I won't be taking any Guest submissions.**_

 _ **I'm so very excited for this story and I hope you all enjoy the twist! If this is your first time flying on Celtic Airlines, here's how this goes: this story has a sponsor system based on points that you can earn in the following ways:**_

 _ **Favorite the story: 4 points.**_

 _ **Follow the story: 2 points.**_

 _ **Review a chapter of the story: 5 points. Answering a Chapter Question in your review gets five additional points.**_

 _ **Reviewing another one of my stories gets five points per story (not review, just per story though).**_

 _ **I think that's all for now about the points. On every chapter I have a question, answer it and you get more points. And trust me, those points build fast. Use them to buy objects for tributes you like, including your own!**_

 _ **Please check out the available spots/important info/rules on my profile! Stay tuned because it probably won't be long before I allow two per person! If you have any questions, hit me up with a PM! So, without any further ado, our first chapter question!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: How did you like the intro? Did you enjoy the look into Yin's POV?**_

 _ **I'll tell you all this: the 42 tributes are going to be NOTHING like the 36 tributes. Mine are going to be ready to kill, so yours better watch out. Yin's not going to have to force anyone to kill each other in this one. I can't WAIT!**_

 _ **Everybody please buckle your seatbelts! The flight attendants (AKA the Ponty, Dawson, and Vardaman) will be there shortly to offer you come complementary peanuts. We thank you for choosing Celtic Airlines! Prepare for takeoff!**_


	2. Reapings: D1, D9

_-Whimsical Chandler, 18: District 1 Female-_

"Five more minutes," I whine, pulling a blanket over my head. I'm being shaken and I just want to go back to bed.

"Whimsy, get up!" Quality shakes me. "Today's your big day! Your volunteering day!"

Oh, my volunteering day! Too bad it's starting so fucking early in the morning.

"Let's go, rise and shine!" Amaze fucking _throws_ the blankets off of me, and I feel like I've been thrown into the Arctic tundra.

" _Amaaaazzeeee_ ," I whine, curling up into a ball of Whimsy, trying to conserve heat as I'm freezing to death. "Five more minutes."

" _Whimsyyyyyy_ ," Amaze whines back. "C'mon! If you don't get up I'll volunteer for you!"

I sit up, glancing over at her. "Really?"

"Of course not," she laughs. "I know better. Next year."

I grin at her. "Next year."

I get out of bed and glance over at the male volunteer.

Oh, wait, if you don't know what I'm talking about you probably think I'm hella weird. Which I am hella weird. But not in the kinky way. Mostly.

But no, what's happening is the annual Academy Lock-In, a tradition that's been in District 1 for years. Before the big day of volunteering, the two tributes from 1 who have had the honor and privilege of being selected to volunteer for the Games are allowed to be locked into the Academy together for one last night of the craziest, most _insane_ training there is.

I actually wasn't first in training for most of my life. My entire life I've been one-upped by a chick named Fortune Polius, who was a really good trainer. It was actually last-minute that I was put on top, and you know why? It's because she got _pregnant_. Kind of a shock to all of us. She seemed so chaste. I guess that's what happens when you start dating someone like Pride Davison. He has the sex drive of a rabbit.

Er, he _had_. After all, he died in the Games last year, leaving his beloved all by her lonesome. She was thrown out, too, I've seen her wandering and searching for a place to take shelter.

My heart breaks for her, really. Losing your only chance to volunteer like that, being left alone. I've checked up on her more than anyone else in the Academy, but she doesn't really like to talk to me for obvious reasons.

So, it's my turn to shine. Ever since Fortune dropped out, I've been training harder than ever. I surely have a lot to prove.

"It's your big day, Whimsy! _Yours!_ "

I glance over at my District partner, where he's left to sleep by his friends, because he doesn't have to take so much time preparing like girls do. His friend Cheshire is already awake, pulling dark hair up into a ponytail. Girls have to do so much more work than boys.

Meanwhile, the boy, Alma is what everyone calls him, and his other friend Regal are both still sleeping.

Alma and I did some talking last night. Planned some strategy, even quizzed each other about some Games while our friends watched on. After all, we're going to be in the same alliance, why not start team-building now?

I glance back to my side, to where Brisk and Glow sleep, huddled up together.

"Aren't they cute?" teases Amaze. I roll my eyes.

My best friends are named Amaze and Quality. Amaze is 17 and Quality is 16, and though neither of them currently hold the number one spot in training, they both want to volunteer. Hey, though, anything is possible. Hm, I'm pretty sure that's one of the Victor's slogans. I remember reading about it in my Games binge-read last night. I don't remember which one, though.

Brisk is my brother. He's 16, Quality's age, but has never really been interested in volunteering. He still trains, though half-heartedly, just in case something crazy were to happen. Even so, he was excited for me when I brought the letter home, and has been helping me ever since. Then there's Glow. We call him the straight friend. Luckily, though, he's not a disgusting straight boy, and would never date any of us. That doesn't stop us from trying to find a pretty girl for him though.

"We should set up Glow with that chick," Amaze whispers, gesturing over to Cheshire, who combs out her thick, dark ponytail.

"Amaze!" Quality says, giggling, "You can't just go around trying to set up Glow with people!"

I laugh, "It's worth a try."

"I think Glow's tired of us trying to find pretty girls for him," Amaze says.

"Well we'll never stop trying. It's our patriotic duty to get Glow a girlfriend," I laugh.

"Doesn't she want to volunteer next year?" Quality asks.

Amaze wrinkles her nose. "Yes. She's a spot above me. I've gotta change that, though."

"Maybe setting her up with Glow will set her behind," Quality giggles, and we all start laughing.

"So what do you think of Alma?" Amaze asks quietly, glancing at him as he sits up, yawning.

"I think that he's competition. But I can certainly surpass him."

Cheshire looks over then, giving us a warning glance. I realize she could probably hear that whole conversation. Even if we were talking quietly, the room is silent. She doesn't say anything, though, shaking Regal awake as the three friends start to get ready for the reaping.

Amaze gets to shaking the two cuddling boys awake while Quality helps me into my dress, a light pink dress that's short and poofy with gems across the top and soft satin… Truly a dream for someone like me. Quality zips up the back as Amaze gets to work on the curly blonde mess of hair sticking up from sleeping. Alma's friends help him get dressed in a nice outfit, trying to work on his dark, curly hair. They all bicker lovingly as they try to figure out the best way to tame the mess of bedhead.

Amaze curls my hair while Quality helps me do my make-up, all while Glow makes comments in the background and Brisk says, "Oi, that's my sister you're talking about!"

Just as the last curl is put in place, the doors open for our Academy banquet. Every trainee is invited, breakfast is set out, and we all eat and are merry together. My youngest sister Pygmy is 9, so she's one year too young to join in the fun. People everywhere are congratulating me, and I smile and thank all of them. I have conversations with some of the people who frequent the same parties I do, and some of the people I've slept with, congratulating me on my achievement.

Amaze strikes up some conversations with some really hot people, so maybe she'll get some action when I'm gone. I'll be back soon enough, though. Luckily for me, unlike Fortune, my parents stress the importance of safe sex and provide me with anything I ask them for, and they also make really awesome morning-after breakfasts.

I catch Alma's eye from across the room, where he's smiling and laughing with a group of people, and wave. Building this District loyalty is important. After all, I know that the 2 tributes are always a team, even if they don't like each other, and 1 needs to be the same way.

Suddenly, a glass clinks and we all look up.

"Welcome, one and all!" Dutch Krietzer speaks, his voice loud and clear. Dutch is the Victor of the 20th Games, and after his brother Os died in the 21st Games, he married and had two kids with fellow Victor Marlowe Glaiser. The older, Scotch, is officially too old to volunteer after last year, and their youngest, Sprite, doesn't seem intent on it. "Today, we celebrate and honor two courageous young people who are going to serve their District in the 42nd annual Hunger Games!" The Academy bursts into applause. Cheshire shouts, "KILL IT ALMA!" And Amaze rivals her with a "WHIMSY IS THE BEST!"

"Bur first, while I have everyone here, and the attention of the Academy, I have important announcement." I exchange a look with Amaze, who raises her eyebrow.

"Our beloved Head Trainer Bronson has officially decided to step down into retirement." The Academy "aaawwwh"s, and the man waves his hand to dismiss it. "He will be replaced by a worthy young man who astounded all of us with his abilities and talent. He will be a fierce teacher that will educate and pass extensive knowledge to all of you. Cordovan Prior!" My eyebrow shoots up at he nineteen-year-old, who was supposed to volunteer last year but gave it up for whatever reason. He had everyone else blown out of the water and he gave it up. But now it appears not everything is going to waste.

"Now, back to the Games. Today, we honor the brave decisions and hard work of Whimsy Chandler and Alma Riduanda, who are going to do District 1 proud in the Games."

The Academy roars with applause, all of my friends screaming and throwing up their hands. I laugh, a warm emotion filling my heart. Cheshire cheers and cups her hands to her mouth to be heard when she cheers his name, though Regal just claps like normal.

Dutch holds his glass up, his eyes alight with a certain sparkle. "To Whimsy and Alma. May you fight courageously and honorably, may you fight hard and strong, and may you do our District proud in all that you do. Cheers!"

The Academy repeats a "Cheers!" and everyone clangs glasses, laughing and drinking.

I can't help that my chest swells with pride. I can't wait to get there already.

After some more chatting and merrymaking, the Academy students that are of age head to the reaping together.

If this seventeen-year-old that's going to be my District partner thinks that he's gonna leave a better first impression than me, he's mistaken. I get blood taken from my finger and everyone in the crowd looks at me with a certain reverence.

"Good luck," I tell Alma with a smile.

He gives me a smile. "Good luck to you too."

Amaze and Quality bring it in for one last good luck hug before we all have to separate. The escort, Angelique Bellevue, takes the stage, her bright pink lips glistening with a smile. "Welcome, one and all, to the reaping for the 42nd annual… Hunger Games!" Everyone bursts out into applause and my heart flutters.

"Now, without further ado, let's begin with a video straight from the Capitol!" the video plays. It's all so familiar, but this year each word brings me closer and closer to my big moment so they're all more important. The video ends and she goes over to the reaping bowl to pick a name.

"Cheshire Penella!"

The seventeen-year-old looks stunned as she starts to walk out of her section to the stage. She knows damn well she's going to have to visit me after the reaping. It's tradition.

"Are there any volunteers?" Angelique asks as if she knows, and I put my hand up.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

The crowd parts as I walk confidently up to the stage. I beam as I go up the steps, just like I practiced. Everything goes perfectly.

"Oh, how sweet. What's your name, dear?"

"Whimsy Chandler." I feel a bright beam on my face as I hold my head up high.

"And now for the boys." She goes over to the boys' bowl, while I survey the District's smiling faces and beam. Angelique reaches in and picks a name. "Spell Schuler!"

The boy walks out from the 12 section, feeling pairs of jealous eyes on him. Not every day a 12-year-old gets the honor of being reaped and volunteered for.

"Are there any volunteers?"

"I volunteer!" Alma keeps a laidback, carefree smile on his face as he goes to the stage, looking charming and relaxed. That's probably a good angle for him.

"Wonderful. And your name?"

"Alma Riduanda!" The crowd applauds for him like they did for me.

"Oh, how nice!" She nods at us to shake hands, which Alma does with a tight grip, meeting my eyes and giving me a smile. I smile back at him.

"Everyone, your District 1 tributes, Whimsy Chandler and Alma Riduanda!"

The crowd bursts into screaming and applause.

My parents appear first, with my little sister in tow.

"Oh Whimsy, you were so beautiful up there." My mother hugs me tightly, and I hug back. "You're going to be wonderful," she tells me, kissing the top of my head.

"I'm going to make you proud," I promise.

"I'm sure you will, Sweetheart," my father says, taking me into a hug. "You've already made us so proud. We really need you home."

"Of course."

Pygmy's blonde curls bounce as she gives me a big hug. "Whimsy, you're so pretty. Come home soon, okay?"

"Absolutely," I say quietly, kissing the top of her head. Next year she'll start training, and her ambitions to volunteer are already high.

Pygmy giggles. "I'll be waiting."

"You'll see me on the TV," I tell her, "It'll be shorter than you think."

She nods, giggling.

"I love you," I tell them, kissing my mother and father on the cheek.

"Love you too," says my mother.

"We love you so much," says Dad.

"Love you Whims!" Pygmy smiles.

"I'll be back soon."

"Of course." My father holds out a little golden object to me. "Take this as your token to think of us." My family runs a little jewelry shop, and my favorite object there is a little golden unicorn figurine. And now it's in my hands.

"This can't be cheap."

"But we wanted only the best memory," my mother says.

"Thank you." I take my parents and Pygmy into one last group hug before they have to go.

The next person in the door is crossing her arms. "Of course I had to be reaped," she says.

"Look, I'm not going to do anything to fuck with Alma, alright?"

"You'd better not," she says protectively. "Obviously it'd be stupid of me to tell you that you have to die for him, but I will say that if you play any dirty business with him you will be dead. He will kill you. I will kill you."

"Understood."

"Glad we could figure that one out." She tosses a laurel crown at me and the next time I look up after putting it on, she's gone. Alright.

Next comes Quality and Amaze together.

"Oh, Whimsy! You were beautiful!"

Both of my friends give me a hug. Quality's brown curls bounce as she bounces on her feet, smiling. Amaze's blonde hair is shiny and waves perfectly.

"Thanks!" I say.

"You're going to do amazing in the Games!" Amaze gives me a tight hug, and I hug back.

"And when you get back, you and I can have some wine and some celebratory fun!" Amaze winks at me, and my ears go red. I mean, it sounds pretty fucking sweet to me.

"…Why are you looking at each other like that?" Quality asks. "I don't get it."

"Oh, Sweetie," laughs Amaze, "I'll explain later." Poor Quality is horribly innocent and barely understands innuendoes. And Amaze and I make a _lot_ of innuendoes.

"Okay!"

"Good luck, Whimsy. This is it. This is what you've been waiting for. Go out there and get what's yours."

"Thanks Maze. Love you."

"Love you too."

"Love you Whimsy," says Quality, and I take her into a hug.

"Love you too. Keep on working, alright? You can beat out those girls above you and go for 44."

"Okay!" She smiles at me. My friends exchange last hugs and goodbyes with me before they have to go.

Last comes Brisk and Glow.

My brother is the first to hug me. "Ah, Whims… What are we gonna do without you for a month?"

"You're going to miss me very much," I say, teasing. "Just kidding. It'll be quicker than you think. You'll blink and I'll be back."

"Right," he says, hugging me. "Of course. I really will miss you."

"I'll miss you too Baby Brother."

"Don't call me that! You're only two years older than me! You don't even remember when I was a baby!" But he's laughing.

"You're right, I don't. But you're still younger!" I grin at him, and he grins back. I ruffle my little brother's hair. "Be safe, Brisk. I'll be back in a month. Love ya."

"Love you too, Sis."

I hug Glow next. "You have to take care of him," I tease. "Make sure he doesn't get himself into trouble when I'm gone."

Glow starts laughing. "Of course," he says, grinning.

"Hey!" says Brisk, causing me to laugh harder.

"I'm just kidding. No I'm not. Yes I am." I grin, and Brisk makes a face at me teasingly.

"Also, Amaze might have found a new girl to set you up with. So you might wanna run."

"You guys always pick the strange ones," he sighs. I grin at him and shrug.

"We're only trying to help."

"I know, I know."

"Don't miss me too much when I'm gone, kay?"

"I won't."

"Good. Love ya."

"Love you too. Be careful out there."

"Will do! I promise it!"

I wave and exchange last goodbyes as Brisk and Glow leave.

I smile as Angelique comes to get me, and together Alma and I walk out to the train. I catch his eye and we exchange a smile as we go forth, ready for our moments in the spotlight.

 _-Beowulf Mortimer, 18: District 9 Male-_

I wake up at the crack of dawn to… Crying. I sit up and stretch, glancing around.

 _Fuck, I ache._ I glance at the scratches and scabs and bruises that litter my naked body. I feel a grin push across my lips as I get out of bed. I follow the noises of the tears and look into the bathroom, and sure enough there he is.

He looks pathetic, really. He's curled up, sobbing quietly into his knees, scratched up from last night. He's got this huge bruise on his cheek from where I'd shoved him into the wall by mistake. He's a sobbing mess, and trying to be quiet.

 _Oh, I should help him._

Pfft.

"Oi, man, what the hell?" He's never done this before.

He glances up at me, brown eyes teary, dark hair plastered on his forehead. "Beo," he says, sounding slightly surprise. "S-Sorry, I was trying not to wake you…"

"Why are you down there?" He's a whore, he should be used to being scratched and bashed up. And he's my favorite, so he should really know.

"I th-thought I could do it… I couldn't..."

"What the fuck are you going on about?" I grab him by the shoulder and hoist him up.

"M…My friend," he says quietly. "My best friend d-died last year…"

"Come _on_ Chancellor, it's been a year."

"You wouldn't know what having a friend is like," he says, his lips going into a scowl. "But friendship is what happens when you actually grow _close_ to someone. With mutual love and respect. And losing that person affects you."

I start laughing again. "That's why you don't depend on people, stupid! If you stop caring what other people think and act for yourself, maybe you'd actually enjoy what you do! Maybe you'd actually enjoy life."

"It's not that easy," he says, crossing his arms.

"Sure it is. I'm a pretty simple guy, and I'm able to throw the haters to the side."

"Yeah, and you're fucking sick."

"See? I don't even care you said that. Now be a man and dry the tears. You're lucky I don't take this to your supervisor."

He pales. "Please… No. I-I'll-"

"How about a quickie before the reaping?" I give him a grin. If he woke me up with his crying at six in the fucking morning, a quickie is the least he can do for me. He breaks eye contact, but he can't say no. That's what makes it funny. One of the perks to being loaded.

"Fine," he mutters. His eyes are wide and dark, and he looks like he's been crying for hours. But, since I'm such a good person, I don't even mention it.

That's funny. Me, a good person. I know I'm terrible, and even if I didn't, I have plenty of people to tell me I am. And I've stopped giving a damn. It's the only way I'm ever going to find happiness in this damn District, after all.

Besides, I didn't pay him good money to be his fucking therapist.

He goes back to my bedroom, and I realize that anyone with a heart would feel bad, after he had awakened with nightmares of his little girlfriend being reaped, making him do this, giving him fresh bleeding scratches.

Yeah, I don't have a heart. I enjoy every second of my pre-reaping treat.

After that, I sneak him out of the window. I'm sure my parents are damn aware I have him over all the time, but it's the principle of the thing. Makes me think of a time when maybe I would've cared about disrespecting my parent's rules. That didn't last very long.

Then, I admire myself in the mirror. Even if Chancellor is an emotional mess, he's still pretty damn good at marking me up. Probably the closest thing I'll ever have to a friend, and he hates me. Which is totally fine by me. Most of the time I don't even listen to the bullshit that comes out of his mouth anyways.

Finally I decide that I need to stop admiring my perfectness in the mirror and actually consider getting dressed. But man, when my eyes see the hickeys on my sides and neck and collarbone, the feeling of his lips comes back. Damn, I have time for some more fun before the reaping, if I can find the right person to spend it with.

I put on a white collared shirt and dark pants and wrap a tie around my neck, neglecting to actually tie it. I roll up the sleeves of my shirt to make sure people can see the red marks on my arms. Even though doing that is probably teasing myself more than any of them. Heh. But hey, if some guy were reaped and had all these injuries, wouldn't you be afraid of him?

I run fingers through my hair, leaving it somewhat messy.

I pull out the book from the shelf next to my bed. The only one there, leather-bound, full of different writing and inscriptions from generations and generations of Mortimers. The stupid hero for which I was named, going out and slaying monsters and still being all humble and shit. What's the point of slaying a fucking giant if you can't say _"HELL YEAH I SLAYED A FUCKING GIANT!"_? I honestly don't understand it. And, of course, why would you go on a quest without having crazy victory sex when you get back?

Also, Beowulf is not a good name for your child, alright, it's not edgy or cool. Why couldn't I have been named for someone cool like Zeus, who fucked everyone ever? No, I had to be named after this ancient bozo.

Yeah, you didn't expect the crazy demon sex god to be literate, did you? Well I'll have you know that smart terrible people are the worst kind of people. Dumb terrible people just get themselves in trouble doing stupid shit. Terrible smart people are the real threat, because they'll fuck shit up and blame it on the terrible dumb people.

I look at all the notes, annotations, the worn pages, the places where smudged black ink has circled or starred or underlined lines of the stupid poem that mean shit to them. I haven't marked it up much, because I don't have anything nice to say about the words of the page and I actually respect books enough to not draw dicks in them.

I open up to a random page and start to read:

"Suddenly then  
the God-cursed brute was creating havoc:  
greedy and grim, he grabbed thirty men  
from their resting places and rushed to his lair,  
flushed up and inflamed from the raid,  
blundering back with the butchered corpses."

Mm. Sometimes I really love literature. Yes, sometimes I do enjoy this shit written by people thousands of years ago.

I shut the book and put it back on the shelf.

I hear the soft pitter patter of steps moving around and I realize that Eloise is probably awake. _She must be shitting herself,_ I think with a laugh. It's her first reaping. I see her gross face and she sticks her tongue out at me.

After my fuck-you attitude set my parents against me, they tried to have another kid. And that kid was born a bloody mess without a beating heart. So they went straight to the orphanage and adopted a child with blue eyes and brown hair, just to spite me. All she ever does is echo their biased mindsets anyways.

"Morning," I say to her.

She wrinkles her nose at me. "Scum," she says. That's what she calls me because that's what they call me.

"Oh, shut up Grendel," I say. She glances at the bleeding places on my arms, causing me to flash her a toothy grin.

"Don't call me Grendel," she says. Eloise didn't get a stupid story name so I decided to give her one. And Grendel just seemed to fit. She doesn't dare set a single toe out of place or else she'll be shipped back out to the orphanage. I get away with being a horrible bisexual disrespectful piece of shit because I have their shitty blood in me.

"I'm not gonna stop calling you Grendel," I say, going to swish the little monster's ponytail.

"Scum," she says again.

"Alright, Parrot."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?!" she stomps her foot.

"It means that you just repeat Mom and Dad's opinions like a fucking parrot!"

"Using that language isn't appropriate," she says, crossing her arms.

"See? Caw caw, like a fucking parrot. Do you want a cracker?"

She stomps her foot again. "Stop that!"

"Sorry little parrot. Stop being a parrot and maybe I won't call you out on it."

"I don't have to take this," she says, scowling at me with one last "Scum."

"Bye bye Grendel," I say, waving to her. She scurries off, scowling, her little reaping dress flowing behind her. I snicker a bit, going out to the kitchen to pick up some toast and jam for breakfast. Nobody crosses me from there. My parents are probably out talking to some rich friends about how I'm a horrible son but at least Grendel has some hope. Ugh.

I have some time to kill before the reaping, so I spend it window-shopping and wandering in and out of the stores. I'm in a stupid pawn shop, looking around, when a hand reaches for the same tiny magnifying glass as me.

When I look up, it's a smiling face I recognize. Light ginger hair, brown eyes that widen slightly when they meet mine. I feel myself going pale.

"Oh, sorry mate," he says, before he trails off. "Beo."

"Yeah, fancy meeting you here," I say, scratching the back of my neck, dropping the magnifying glass. It… It wasn't _that_ interesting anyways.

"Nice stuff here," he says, twisting the magnifying glass around in his fingers.

"If you can find cool stuff under all the pointless shit," I say quietly.

There's a huge-ass elephant in the room. The fact that I'd basically stopped talking to him after a fiasco that happened with my parents. I figured he wouldn't want to chat with me much after my parents threw a paperweight at his head aiming for me. In hindsight, a simple "I'm bi" would've probably been better than kissing a boy in front of my horrible homophobic parents. Then again, I thought they'd just do the simple "You're the worst and from hell" spiel, not fucking try to beat the shit out of me and him by extension. I mean, it was a super sudden and ambitious idea that sprouted on a total whim, and he was stupid to go along with it, but yeah it was kind of really my fault.

"This is your last reaping, isn't it?" Lucky bastard. This is his first year safe from them.

"Uh, yep." I flick through some dirty, rusty shit that has no use and stopped working a long time ago, looking for something else interesting to tinker with my fingers. "One more and then I'm done." I can feel his eyes on my arms.

"Mhm."

"Oh, I didn't do those," I tell him quickly, figuring out what he might've been thinking. I mean, I might as well have, but I didn't. "They're love marks."

Back when we were younger teens, like, 16 and 17, we'd messed around (pfft, full-on fucked, what am I talking about?), but it hadn't exactly been _violent_.

"Oh…" he seems slightly surprised. "You've been… Busy then." His eyes break away from my arms and stare back at the magnifying glass in his hands. When I glance over his expression looks _really_ pissed.

"Yeah, sure have been."

We sit in silence. Some words push at my tongue that I swallow down. By the look on his face, I can tell he feels the same way.

"Why the fuck-"

"I have to go to the reaping." Oh, it appears we both started talking at the same time.

He drops his thought, dropping his head to glance at the magnifying glass in his hands. "Oh, right. Good luck."

"Thanks." Reaping day always made him nervous, he confided in me. It changed his life when his cousin was reaped away into the 36th Games and died the first day. Suddenly it wasn't farfetched that he suffer the same fate. Well, here he is, safe and sound.

I escape quickly, going to the Square to get checked in. They take blood from my finger and I go to the 18 section, smirking at how people instinctively draw away from me.

They play the Capitol video, and the escort, Cordelia steps up on the stage, decorated in blue-gray. She's getting older, but still just as disgustingly perky. She greets the District with the wave of a hand, expecting applause she doesn't receive.

"Of course. Well, first, the ladies." She makes a bit of a face before pulling her lips back in a smile (hm, Chancellor used to do that too, but for very different disgusting reasons), and starts swirling her hand around in the girls' reaping bowl.

 _Eloise Mortimer_ , I think, _Eloise Mortimer Eloise Mortimer Eloise Mortimer-_

"Linnea Isenberg!"

Oh goddammit.

The girl walks out from the 14 section. She has light brown hair and wide brown eyes that are exposing all the fear she's feeling. She bites her lip, and I can see words forming on her lips that she'll never say. Shaking, she makes her way up to the stage, one step at a time, eyes wide with panic. The District is quiet. I can't help the smirk that pushes across my features. She's weak. Day 1 death. Weepy kid.

"And now for the boy." Cordelia goes to the other bowl. She swirls her hand around and picks a name.

"Beowulf Mortimer!"

I feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on me.

I smile.

I grin.

Then, I start to laugh.

I laugh loud and clear, for all to hear. As I start to the stage, I cackle. _I'm going into the Hunger Games._ Ahaha! I get up on the stage and throw my head back, cackling at the top of my lungs and enjoying the feeling that's pumped through my veins at the action.

Finally I can get my revenge, I can be the monster I was always truly meant to be! I cackle as I join Cordelia, and cackle even louder at her not knowing how to react.

"Er… Yes. Sh-Shake hands you two."

I take the little girl's hand, who looks up at me with wide, scared brown eyes. I flash her a devious smile, causing her eyes to pool up more, which makes me laugh again.

"Everyone, your tributes, Beowulf Mortimer and, er, Linnea Isenberg." I laugh harder that she forgot the girl's name. Next to me, of course she would. We go back into the Justice Building together.

.

My parents and Grendel are the first to visit me. My mother holds the little monster close to her and none of them come near me.

"So, why are you here? Not to give me a heartfelt goodbye, I hope," I say, laying on the couch flat on my back.

"You've grown up," says my mother, glancing at me with her brown eyes that match mine. "You're officially an adult. I was going to tell you this morning that it's time for you to stop depending on us, pick up your lazy ass, and do something with yourself, but I suppose this is how you're going to earn your living.

"And you bet I'm going to do it damn well," I say.

My mother covers Grendel's ears. "Beowulf!" she scolds.

"Oh, she's heard much worse," I inform her. "Haven't you Grendel?"

"That is not your sister's name."

"If I get a dumb old book name, she does too."

"You're pushing it," growls my father.

"Hell if I care. You guys are nothing to me now. Not parents, not a sister. Total strangers."

"I think we will all be happier this way," my mother says.

"Scum," adds Grendel, ducking behind my mother's legs.

"Oh, Grendel. Do me a favor and eat some _crackers_ just for me. Consider it my final goodbye to you."

She sticks her tongue out. Mom and Dad don't get it, but I don't need them to. They turn and start walking out the door. I call after them, "It'll be _my_ face you're seeing on TV! Don't forget it!"

My next visitor is a surprise. I sit up straight and Nik walks in.

"Hey."

"Hi." He's twisting something around in his fingers.

"You bought it." I can't help but feel surprised.

"Yeah, I did. I got it for cheap."

"Oh. Cool."

He puts it in my hand. "I still have a bone to pick with you, but… I want you to take it. For a token."

"Oh. Well, I'm not taking a token." He raises an eyebrow, so I explain. "If I need something to remember someone by, they're obviously not important enough to me."

"Oh…"

I take his wrist and put it back in his hand. "How about you give it to me when I get back home?"

"Alright." I hold onto his hand for a while.

"We can talk it out when you get back." When his eyes meet mine, he gives me a small glare.

"Yeah. Okay."

Cordelia comes back to gather us. When I look over at Linnea, her eyes are puffy like she's been crying, causing me to smirk.

 _Ha._

 _Pathetic_.

 _ **A/N: And now we start out the reaping! Don't worry, we'll see much more of the District partners as time goes!**_

 _ **So, I hope you enjoyed these tributes! I decided to write them out of order for Districts based on what I was feeling and what District partners I had. The next chapters will have 3 POVs instead of just two, so they'll probably end up being longer.**_

 _ **There are currently no spots open but there are some spots that have been reserved, so they still might open up! So stay tuned! I hope you liked this chapter and the characters in it. And I hope that now the story can really kick off because I'm super excited about it. Thanks to everyone who submitted tributes, and to those of you that have reservations, I hope that you send me tributes soon!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: What did you like about Whimsy and Beo as people? What did you not like?**_

 _ **Oooh, that reminds me! My friend Jess has a partial SYOT for the 44**_ _ **th**_ _ **Games, and it's going to show up a lot in this story because Jess and I are in a constant state of "OMG CHARACTER CONNECTIONS" so I highly suggest you go on over and send a character their way because who knows I might be trash that puts two-years-younger them in my universe XD But yeah Magnets is gonna be awesome so just DO IT. So if you're bored and need somewhere to submit to… *wink wonk***_

 _ **Okay, so I'll see you later. I'm keeping scores updated but they're not on the chapters. So thanks! I think next chapter shall be Tempest, Torque, and Lindsay!**_


	3. Reapings: D4, D5

_-Tempest La Rossa, 18: District 4 Female-_

Tiller and I are eating ice cream together, our legs hanging off the side of his family's boat, as the sun rises.

We sit next to each other with one of the guard rails between us, looking out across the dark water as the sky becomes alight with pinks and oranges. I let out a content sigh in the dawn, the flavor of the pistachio ice cream sweet but mellow on my tongue. Sometimes calm seas are just what you need.

Not everyone in District 4 can afford to spend their reaping morning on a boat like this looking out at the ocean. Some have to work long hours in shops that reek of dead fish and fish guts and sweat in the stuffy, humid day. I know because that's what my family does.

It's my last reaping and I worked until late last night, so my parents let me go out with Tiller instead of working. Besides, my brother's there anyways. He chose to go to bed early last night.

Anyways, Tiller Clarke. My best friend. His family's loaded, it's a miracle they let him hang out with someone more modest like me. I suppose it's because our other friends aren't even close to as well-off as me and they lowered their standards. Maybe they think I'll be a suitable mate for Tiller, with my large breasts and my wide baby-bearing hips. Pfffffft.

In Tiller I see the periwinkle of the clouds in the sky. It's the color I usually see projected around his shoulders and head.

A lot of people like to ask me what color auras I see around them, and they always get so excited when I tell them.

My brother Lee is the assorted shades of gray of a stormy sky. My other friend Rafferty is vibrant highlighter yellow, and Isidore is the the light blue of a sunny sky fading into the dark navy of the bottom of the sea.

I've been blessed with the gift of colors, you see. Being able to see colorful areas of light around people, adorning them like halos. Each person has a unique color or combination of colors. It's how I leave an impact on people. Nobody I've ever talked to in my life has had such a gift.

Tiller gets up, offering to put my bowl away, and I thank him. Tiller isn't necessarily the friend of mine that I've known the longest, but he is the friend I connected with the most. We spend so much time together everyone assumes that we're dating or fucking, which makes me laugh because… No. Just no. He's my best friend, but I couldn't live with him for five minutes without chewing his head off. We agree on that.

He comes back and sits next to me again. "So, you're going to volunteer, then."

I nod. "That's right. Today's my big day."

He nods. "How's your father doing with it? Any better?"

I laugh a bit. "Nope. He's still sticking to that whole _volunteer and you're no daughter of mine_ bullshit."

Tiller sighs. "Well, he knew what kind of person you'd be all the way back when you were born, didn't he?"

I laugh. "True." It was his idea to name me Tempest, which I definitely am. I'm a storm of a person. He says he could see it in my eyes the first time I opened them. He really should've seen this coming when he put me in training.

I've always been loud and obnoxious, never letting people take advantage of me, getting into trouble at school for mouthing off…

My brother is younger than me by one year. When he was born, he was named Lee because that name means "sheltered from the storm."

Damn, did my parents get _that_ wrong.

My brother is just as loud and powerful as I am, really, except for the fact that he doesn't have ambitions like his big sister and is satisfied never volunteering.

But when I see myself in the mirror, I'm adorned with a halo of shining gold. Ever since I realized it, I've wanted to win. Win at everything. Including the Games.

I want it all. Always have, always will. No holding back.

All or nothing, that's the Tempest La Rossa way! And I like getting it all.

"You're sure this is what you want to do? If you run into it without realizing what you're getting into…"

"I know. I understand the pretenses. I know the Games. I know what I can do." I stare out across the water, lighting up with the appearance of the sun. "All of the women in my family were weak, _spineless_ housewives who married men they never loved just for money. They surrendered their voices in marriage!" I take a deep breath, my eyes pooling up shallowly thinking about my mother's quiet obedience. "I refuse to be like them, Tiller. This is my chance to make something of myself. Make my voice heard. I feel ready, I know what I'm getting into. I'm not going to throw away the opportunity."

I swallow and wipe at my eyes quickly, stopping the tears.

"Then I'll be rooting for you every step of the way."

I glance over at the calming periwinkle, and let out a small sigh. "Thanks. Even if nobody else is around, I'm glad you're still behind me."

Mr. Clarke informs us that they're going to start moving the ship again, so Tiller and I stand up, standing together against the guardrail.

The boat starts to move toward shore and Tiller gives me a grin. "You're gonna knock their pants off."

That causes me to laugh. "Watch out Capitol," I warn. "Honey, you've got a big storm comin'!"

We stay quiet as the wind whips my dark ponytail around. When we get back to port, Tiller helps tie up and then we walk back across the beach to the main District, where his house (and our tiny little shop) is located.

"Did you tell the others?" he asks me.

"Of course. Rafferty kept saying he knew it all along, and Isidore was telling me how proud he was and tried to ruffle my hair."

"How about the male? Have you heard anything about him at all?"

I think, and then shake my head. "He's from a different Center father out from here." I puff my choppy bangs out of my eyes.

"Well, maybe he'll be stupid."

"Four tributes aren't usually stupid," I say, amused. Unlike One or Two, Four's training is much more relaxed. We don't care about having two malicious volunteers every year. A lot of people, myself included until this year, double school and training, so that if they don't volunteer, which is likely, they'll have a backup foundation to do something with their lives.

"Maybe he'll be unmotivated."

"Still unlikely." In Four, there isn't pressure for volunteers every year, after all. Usually tributes that volunteer from him are incredibly motivated, or else they'd just not volunteer and go into a modest job to live a comfortably average life.

"Maybe he'll accidentally trip off the metal plate on the first day."

I laugh a bit. As _if_. But it's assuring to think that maybe there's a chance.

"Sure," I say, amused. "Maybe."

We walk together for a bit, in a comfortable silence.

Tiller has to be quiet about spending time with Rafferty and Isidore, because his parents are shit. Tiller doesn't care though, he's much cooler and more laidback.

"I'll chat with you later if I can catch you before the reaping."

"Okay," I smile. "See you then."

When I go to the kitchen, Lee is there. He stinks like the shop, sweat and raw fish.

"Oi, little Bro, couldn't you have at least considered taking a shower every once in a while!?"

He flips dark hair out of dark eyes. I don't see auras as much on people I've spent my whole life with, but the dark layers of gray are extremely evident when he does that.

"I'm going to," he says, "As soon as I'm done eating."

"Well, you reek," I inform him.

He grins and shrugs. "What, you're worried you're going to volunteer reeking like fish?" He laughs.

I roll my eyes. "Maybe I actually wanted some breakfast without the reek of tuna assaulting my nose."

"You've got ice cream on your mouth," he says, laughing. "You can't fool me."

I laugh. My brother is keen. "Fine, but I could've been hungry and not eaten and it would've all been because of you."

"You should save room for crazy Capitol food though."

I roll my eyes, but grin. I didn't think about that, but I guess he's right.

"Shouldn't you be changing?" he asks.

"I'm working on it." I go up to my room, calling back to him, "And you'd better take a hell of a long-ass shower if you want to be allowed to visit me after the reaping!"

I hear him laughing all the way from my room upstairs.

I change into a dark green dress and put a gold piece in my hair, keeping it in it's ponytail but giving it a quick combing so it doesn't look so wind-tossed. Sure, green is usually put with silver, but that's not the first impression I want to leave.

I am the golden child. I'm going to make sure that there's no way in hell I'm settling for second place. Not a damn chance.

I sit on the floor to do my make-up and hear Lee coming upstairs and turning the water of the shower on. He wouldn't dare go out smelling like dead fish. I knew he wouldn't. Even if he did, Rafferty would still say he smells fine. Rafferty and his big crush that's "not a crush what are you talking about Tempest!? He's your _brother_!" followed by nervous laughter.

While he's in the shower, I brush my teeth again, making sure they're as good as they're gonna be. I hear Lee screeching some song, thinking that he's some really good singer. I try not to snicker as I go back to my room.

I finish getting all my shit organized, and clean my room. I hear the shower water shut off, and not much later I hear my parents come through the door.

I go down to the kitchen, passing them and seeing their familiar blue and yellow.

"I'm going to see the guys before the reaping," I call to them, leaving before they can give me (another) lecture about volunteering.

I leave and start the walk to the Square. It's a good 20 minutes away, but I have time. I meet Rafferty along the path where we normally meet to walk to training together.

"Good morning volunteer," he says, bouncing his eyebrows at me.

"Hey Loser," I shoot back, returning his grin.

"Are you ready to be amazing?"

"I'm always ready."

We walk and continue to discuss life and all the latest gossip, the rerun of last year's Games that was playing on TV this morning, all of it. Last year the boy from 4 got second place. He was very close with his District partner, who he kept around even though she suffered from schizophrenia. He even almost killed his other ally, (who was more competent), the boy from 2, after she committed suicide in the night. Now that's some serious District loyalty, if you ask me.

Seriously _dangerous_.

I don't intend to make friends.

"Tempest! Rafferty!" Isidore runs over to us, beaming. "Tempest, Tempest. I think you found your counterpart." He quietly gestures to a boy with short, wavy brown hair, dressed simply and hanging out with a slim boy with brown hair and green eyes. They're laughing together.

"I heard him and his friend talking about it."

Isidore nods when his head is turned, and I give him a better look. When I focus on the muscular boy, his aura is dark red going into a dark orange at the bottom. I immediately feel cautious about him. But intrigued.

"Let's go before he notices," I say quietly. "I want him to be surprised."

He has no clue what's coming to him.

Rafferty and Isidore nod and we walk the other way quickly. By now the Square is bustling with people trying to kill time and get in on some reaping discounts.

I don't blame them. You can get some really sick deals on some nice stuff.

The sun now shines brightly on us, the day humid and sticky, but it feels sweet to me. I see Tiller's familiar face and we go to get him, exchanging cheerful reaping.

"You look ready for your moment," he remarks.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be? All or nothing! That's the Tempest way. They'd beter watch out for the stom that's gonna hit them!"

I high five each of my friends and we go to the check-in.

I feel eyes on me, and when I turn around I see the dark orange and red of my future District partner there, still with his friend.

Well, he must've figured out who I am then.

I sigh, but turn toward him, giving him a wave and then, smirking, blow a kiss at him.

He returns the smirk and puts up a hand to catch the kiss, which makes me laugh.

"What can you tell me about him?" I ask my friends as I turn around to get blood taken.

"Nothing," says Tiller apologetically. "I've never seen this guy before in my whole life."

"Okay, so we assume he's a bionic super human with epic awesome fire powers, right?" Rafferty asks, and I laugh.

"He certainly has the aura to fit the role," I muse thoughtfully as I get my finger pricked. I thank the woman before getting ready to separate from my friends.

"Thanks for your support guys," I say. "I'm gonna make you proud."

"Any time," says Isidore.

I force all three of my guy friends into a big group hug despite their fragile masculinity. Then, I bid them farewell, making my way to the section of 18-year-old girls.

The escort, Evianna, takes the stage and shows us a video about war (terrible war) and then the reaping begins.

This is my moment to shine.

She chooses the girl.

"Naya Capello!"

The chosen girl comes out from the 16-year-old section.

"Are there any volunteers?" she appears to be holding her breath, her mint green curls bouncing slightly with the action. The mint green thing she's got going on clashes horribly with the bright orange aura she has.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I say it loud and proud, leaving the 18 section. I walk to the stage, holding my head up high and walking with meaning.

"Great! What's your name?!"

"Tempest La Rossa!" I announce loud and clear, causing some cheers from the boy section.

"Oh, wonderful! Now for the boy."

She walks to the bowl and picks a name.

"Endicott Armati!" The boy comes out from the 18 section, glancing behind him.

"Do we have any volunteers?"

"I volunteer!" He comes running up on the stage, beaming as if he's having the time of his life, like I am. His red and orange are much bolder when he does. He's wearing a green shirt, partly unbuttoned to show off the muscles of his chest, and dark jeans. Not an outfit of the wealthy, but he looks fine.

"What's your name?" Evianna asks. The color combination of her aura and appearance hurts so much I want to look away.

My District partner winks at me before he announces, "Branden Kendler!"

"Oh, wonderful! Everyone, your District 4 tributes, Tempest La Rossa and Branden Kendler!"

We shake hands, exchanging wide, smirkish grins, before we're escorted back to the Justice Building.

My parents come in first. There's a lot of tension in the room.

"I thought I wasn't your daughter anymore," I remark.

"Tempest, we would never stop loving you," my father says, taking me into a hug.

"But-"

"I wanted you to be safe," my father says, "I was hoping that maybe I could dissuade you-"

"With _fear_? I'm not like Mom, Dad. I can't be scared into submission."

I know the remark hurts my mother as soon as I see the look in her face as her yellow dims in her sadness.

"Mom, I'm sorry," I say quietly. She hugs me and doesn't say anything.

It's horribly awkward. "I love you," she says quietly.

"I love you too," I say quietly.

"I love you Dear," says my father.

I hesitate. "I love you too," I say quietly.

They leave. Next in is the shades of gray of my brother Lee.

"Congratulations," he says, giving me a hug.

"You showered," I say laughing.

"Of course I did, I'm not an animal!" he grins at me.

"Look, Little Bro. For the week that I'm gone, you have to cause _twice_ as much chaos!"

Lee lets out a loud laugh. "Wouldn't do anything else of course! It'd be too calm without you! I'll fill your shoes!"

"Good." I grin, and hug him tightly again.

"Love you, Bro."

"I love you too, Sis."

"Wreak havoc."

"Gotcha." He gives me finger guns, and I return them. Then, he goes.

My friends all come in last. I pull them all into a group hug.

"Awesome as always," Rafferty says.

"Without a doubt you're going to win," Isidore says, with a broad grin at me.

"Thanks," I say.

"You were stunning," says Tiller. "You know what to do from here. You can do it. You can win the Games."

"Of course I can, I'm Tempest La Rossa!"

My friends cheer again, and I cheer with them.

"Be safe out there," says Tiller, patting my shoulder.

"Love you all," I say.

"Love you too," they return.

"Come back soon," Tiller says. "I'll miss your shenanigans." The others nod and echo the sentiment.

I grin at them. "You got it. See you in a month."

"See ya."

My friends leave. Evianna appears in the doorway, giving me a bit of a headache she looks so horrible, and takes me and Brendan out to the train.

~.~.

 _-Carlton "Torque" Nawrocki, 16: District 5 Male-_

I wake up after another long night at the hospital, a red mark on my cheek from how I'd been sleeping on my hand. Kyria is curled up in my lap, still breathing peacefully. Fiona is curled up, her eyes closed, gently breathing.

Ree is sweating and shifting in her sleep. Her face has lost all its color, and every time she sits up she looks thinner, losing her hair in clumps… As hard as we're working we can't get the funds for her.

I reach for my glasses, trying not disturb Kyria.

"Torque…" she stirs and sits up. She certainly has a good deal to fear at this point in time. Especially because my parents put her out of her ignorance this year and told her about the reaping. With Ree falling more and more ill, maybe that wasn't the best idea. Then again, she's 6. Getting older. She would've figured it out, she's a smart cookie.

She clings to me. "Torque! You can't go!"

"Sh," I say quietly. "It's okay sweetheart."

"No!" she raises her voice.

"Sh… Don't wake Ree…"

She nods, but stares up at me with teary brown eyes. I hug my sister tightly.

"Y-You said they pick one girl and one boy… Why do you have to go anyways?"

I laugh a little bit. "Sweetheart, it's a little hard to explain. You'll understand when you're older."

"But you're not a boy, right?"

"Nope, Sweetheart, I'm not. But… There are lots of people that don't understand that."

"Like Daddy," she says, and I nod.

"Mhm. And Mommy sometimes. But I know Mommy's trying."

Kyria nods. "You shouldn't have to go," she says, her eyes teary.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be alright."

"Promise?"

"Mhm." I link pinkies with her to prove how serious I am.

Fiona sits up just then. She rubs her brown eyes, getting her messy copper braid out of the way.

"It's reaping day," she says, looking horribly sad.

"Mhm."

"No Ona!" Kyria climbs off my lap to run to Fiona. This is my oldest sister's second reaping at 13. I only have three more to go counting this one. 16, 17, 18. I can make it. I'll be fine.

"Sh…" Fiona hugs Kyria and tries to silence her. Ree's been sleeping so rarely lately, but last night she finally drifted off into a seemingly natural and peaceful sleep, and I'd hate for it to be ruined until we have to.

Kyria cries quietly. "Torque and I will be fine," she says quietly, though not sounding like she believes it. "Sh…"

Ree opens her eyes just then. By the way she takes so much time to do so I can tell how taxing even that simple action is for her. I wish I could do something… Something to give her what she needs today. But we have to keep on working and saving. But realistically we can't keep her alive like this for much longer… Oh, Ree….

"But Torque isn't a boy or a girl. They shouldn't have to go," Kyria says matter-of-factly. I actually give my youngest sister a proud smile. Which is rare from me. A smile. All of my sisters beam in delight, including Ree.

"No, they shouldn't," says Fiona. "But people don't understand that."

"Well then people are stupid," the 6-year-old decides.

I puff out air in a kind of laugh. "They sure are, fam." I ruffle her hair, and she actually laughs a bit. "How are you feeling Ree?" I turn to my feeble sister, who is watching us all and smiling.

"I got some sleep last night," she says quietly, her voice slightly strained. "So… That's good."

"We're working," I say quietly, feeling a wave of sadness and apprehension.

"I know," she says, giving me a weak smile. "Thank you."

Kyria climbs into bed next to Ree. I put an arm around Fiona, who rests her head against the side of my chest. "We're going to make it, alright?" I stroke Fiona's braid gently.

"Yeah," she says quietly.

"Yeah," smiles Ree.

"Okay," sniffles Kyria.

I run a finger nervously across the side of my head, where the hair is buzzed short. It was a totally crazy idea that just kind of happened one day, and since then the girls haven't stopped wanting to touch it. I like it when my sisters do it, but when people at work ask… Yeah, that's a little weird.

I stay with my sisters for just a little bit longer before I know that soon we're going to have to leave Ree. Mom and Dad will come back with Kyria for her to take her to the reaping. Ree is not well, but doesn't fit the _"on death's doorstep"_ criteria. Dad will probably just carry her so we don't have to drain more money renting her a wheelchair. She's certainly light enough for that.

"We need to be getting ready," I tell the other two, as much as it hurts me.

"I understand," says Ree. "I'll see you afterwards."

"Love you Ree," says Fiona, kissing the top of the nine-year-old's head.

"Love you," Kyria says, giving her a hug before crawling out of her bed.

"Love you fam," I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek and an Eskimo kiss for good measure.

"Love you guys too," says Ree, smiling a bit. "I'll see you soon."

I take Fiona's hand, and she takes Kyria. Together, we walk home. Fiona stares at the ground as we go. I know she's still afraid for the reaping. Kyria skips a little bit, her reaping worries seemingly gone for a second as we walk home.

We go back home together, I unlock the door and we all go into the empty house. Mom and Dad are probably still out working as much as they can. Getting in that extra money. I offered to go with them but Mom said I needed to stay with Fiona before her second reaping, and the other girls.

I help take out Fiona's braid so she can comb her hair and send Kyria off to find her dress. I go to my room and look at myself in the mirror. I look as pale and exhausted as I'd feared I did. I sigh quietly to myself. I stayed up a good deal last night. The fear of being reaped is still strong, especially because I've taken tesserae for my whole family. Fear for what will happen to Ree… There's a lot on my plate right now.

I sigh quietly as I run a brush across the part of my hair that isn't buzzed, a curly brown mess of bedhead. Then I change into some dress pants and a nice dress shirt with a black bowtie.

Really, it's easy to mistake me for a boy. I mean, I look like one, I dress in a masculine way most of the time. I would try to adventure into more feminine touches, but fear of being laughed at by the guys at work stopped me from that. I think that gendering objects is stupid, of course, but I seem to be the only one that thinks like that. Besides, I don't think cute skirts are uniform regulation at the factories for anyone.

But really, it's no wonder I've been brought through the wringer of misgendering. It's certainly exhausting, though. And miserable, because the guys at work don't even try anymore. Not like they ever tried in the first place.

It's just frustrating. I'm good at keeping a cool head about it usually, but sometimes I do get incredibly mad. I always shy out before I unleash that, though, because I don't like to start conflict. I suppose I'm too pacifistic to make my voice heard sometimes. That's frustrating too.

I do have a support system of friends that use the right pronouns, though, and sisters have all gotten very good at it. My mother's trying.

Sometimes when I look in the mirror I wonder how I'd look with a little dark lipstick, or some liner on the eyes, or even some blush on the cheeks. Even if it was socially acceptable to find out, it's not like we have the luxury of affording any of that stuff. Damn, I just want to wear that plaid pleated skirt I saw in that store window the other day.

I sigh and go out to the family room, grabbing bread for my breakfast and the girls'. I always make sure that they know that if they don't feel like a girl they should tell me. After all, I remember how it felt to constantly be called "the only boy in a house of girls" and just feel this sinking feeling. It wasn't until I read through the genders and sexualities book in the library that I had any idea that some people identify as genderless. But I remember how strongly I related to that.

I munch on the piece of bread we had for breakfast and then braid Fiona's hair while she eats. She wears a blouse and a skirt and very simple shoes. Kyria wears a dress, the same one I remember Fiona wearing when we were younger, and Ree. It fits her much better than it fit Ree.

None of us talk, but Kyria hums some song she learned in school happily. Mom and Dad come in the house together.

"We're back! Are you ready for the reaping?"

They go into the kitchen. "Oh, good, Sweetie. Thank you for helping them get ready."

"Any time Mom. I'm gonna go catch Bev and Jost before the reaping."

"Alright, good luck." She kisses my head.

"Good luck Son," Dad says, causing me to tense up as he puts a hand on my shoulder. The statement wouldn't have bothered me if he didn't still misgender me out the wazoo.

"Still not a boy," I say, taking a breath and keeping a calm expression. "Talk to me again when you decide to respect me, kay?"

I walk out of the house before he can respond. I start the walk to the Square, kicking loose pebbles as I go and watching them skip and bounce along the path. I walk until I reach the normal meeting spot with the others. Bev is already there, smoking a cigarette.

"Bev, where the hell did you get those?!"

"I got them as a reaping day treat," she says, holding out the box to me. I take one. I haven't held a cigarette in a long time. Smoking's definitely not good for you, but sometimes every once in a while a recreational puff to calm your nerves isn't too bad.

"You even got a lighter."

"Yeah, but it's damn near useless." She hits it off her leg before giving it to me. I'm able to get a puff of fire to light the end.

"Thanks Bev," I say.

"Anything to dispel the nerves."

"I'm sure we'll be fine."

"I can only hope so."

I met my best friend the first and only time I was in the library. I was reaching for the Gender and Sexualities book, and there was a mysterious pull on the other side. We ended up sitting together on one of the dusty old bean bags and reading it through together. She fell asleep on my shoulder, and I was too awkward to move her or wake her up, so I just flipped through the book again. We've been friends ever since.

I take a foul puff of tobacco, coughing a bit. Real cigarettes like this aren't easy to come across.

"So, are you going to tell me your real name, Nawrocki?"

"No," I say, crossing my arms. "It's horrible and embarrassing."

She huffs, but grins at me. She wasn't really expecting me to tell her anyways. I will never tell them, because then they'll teasingly call me "Carl," and that's a horribly embarrassing name.

We sit calmly, putting the cigarette butts away. She offers me the box but I deny, and we walk together the rest of the way to the Town Square.

"So, how's Ree?" she asks, glancing at me. I sigh a little bit but keep the same expression.

"Not good news."

"Oh… I'm sorry."

"We just have to keep working," I say quietly, trying not to express how nervous I feel.

"Yeah," she sounds sad. "Little Nawrocki's a fighter."

"I thought Fiona was Little Nawrocki?"

"Hm… Whatever. You're all Little Nawrockis to me."

"I'm three inches taller than you!"

"But also two months younger!"

I sigh. "Oh, whatever."

She grins at me, and I give her an amused look. We pick up Jost on the way from the Square. I met Jost more recently, like earlier this year. The teacher was talking about some bullshit and I made a snarky remark under my breath, and I didn't realize someone heard it until I looked over and he was practically pissing himself trying to hold it in.

That was one of the more recent times I smiled, but it was into my hands so nobody noticed. I'm just not a reactive person, I don't smile often. And people make such a big deal when I actually do.

Even when I feel happy, I usually don't smile. It's just a thing about me.

Anyways, Jost. He and I were quick friends. And he and Bev had already known each other before, so we all kinda grew closer together. This will be my first reaping with a friend in my section.

"Morning Bev! Morning-" he bounces his eyebrows at me. "I don't remember what your name is, why don't you tell me?"

"Torque," I say, puffing air in a kind of smile-less laugh. "That's all you need to know."

"Oh, come on! I promise we won't laugh too hard!"

"Not happening."

"Damn," but he grins at me, not expecting me to crack either.

"So, ready for the reaping?"

"Nope," I sigh, but we all walk to the check-in station together anyways.

"We'll all be fine," Bev says.

"Right…" I say, trying to believe it. I hiss as blood is taken from my finger and pushed against the page. I really don't like the pain of that. I know that it's nothing compared to the pain of the Games, though.

I go with Jost to the 16 section, and we stick together, neither of us saying a word as the video plays. I think about Fiona, and hope that she found a friend or two to stand with… My heart drops to the pit of my stomach as the bright yellow mess called Lorelei goes over to the girls' reaping bowl.

 _Please… Please not Fiona… Please…_

"Static Durant!" I breathe a breath of relief, and immediately feel bad for doing it. I'm glad my sister's safe, but…

The cameras go on the fifteen section, and the girl in question, easily noticeable by her red hair, lets go of another girl with light brown skin and short, curly hair. She starts up to the stage, slowly but surely. She has big glasses that she pushes up her nose, drawing attention to eyes that have that look in them like they'll shed tears at any second.

Lorelei goes over to the bowl for males. I hold my breath, and for a second all I can hear is my heart pounding and blood roaring in my ears.

"Carlton Nawrocki!"

I let out a sigh. But nobody comes out from the crowd. "Carlton? Carlton Nawrocki?"

Suddenly I realize that my name isn't in the bowl as Torque.

I glance at Jost, puffing out a laugh. "Looks like you know my real name now, fam." I know now's not the time for that, and my friend looks at me, his brown eyes pooling up in tears. I start to walk up to the stage. I'm devastated, but as I said, I don't react very easily. I keep the straight face I'm known for as I join them on the stage.

"Shake hands now," Lorelei says, nudging me. I take Static's hand and give it a firm shake. She looks away and I see tears roll down her cheeks.

"Everyone, your District Five tributes, Static Durant and Carl Nawrocki!"

The District stares at us. Most of them are relieved that they won't be the ones with the shutters closed tonight. Static is the first to turn and run back into the Justice Building, and I follow her.

My parents are the first to visit me. I hug my Mom tightly, and she's crying when she hugs me back.

"My baby!" she sobs. "My Carl!"

I sigh a bit, but I know how she feels. I can't make myself cry, but I do feel incredibly upset. My poor mother… If I die, all hope is gone for Ree as well. I can't let that happen.

"I'll make it home. I'll make it back and we can get Ree what she needs."

"Carl!" she sobs, and I don't even bring up how disgusting that name sounds.

"Sh… Don't get too dependent on me, kay? Take care of the others until I'm back."

She nods a bit, wiping teary eyes. I let her go and give my father a hug.

"Make us proud out there, Son."

"Stop calling me Son," I say. "I'm not."

"You _are_."

He wants to make me mad, but I won't give him the satisfaction. "Please."

He balls his fists, his nostrils flaring slightly with anger. "You-"

"Honey, please!" my mother sobs. "Just… Please… Leave him- er, _them_ , leave them be."

My father doesn't say anything else.

"I love you," I say quietly.

"We love you too," My mother says, giving me one last tight hug before they have to go.

My sisters come in next. Kyria runs over and sits next to me, crying and burying her face in my side. "They can't take you! You're not a boy Torque they can't take you!"

"Sh…" I stroke her hair. "It's alright."

Fiona puts Ree on my lap and sits on my other side. Ree wraps her arms around me, taking weak, shuddering breaths.

"Please," she says, but can't talk anymore.

"Come home," Fiona sobs, burying her face in my shoulder. "Please. We n-need you home!"

"Of course," I say quietly. "You guys just have to keep swingin' while I'm gone, kay?"

I don't get a response, just three nods through tears.

"When I get back, we're going to make Ree better, and we're never going to be apart again, kay fam? I promise."

"Pinky promise!" sobs Kyria, wrapping her pinky around mine. I do it for her. I don't want to make her any more upset.

"We'll be waiting," Ree says weakly.

"I'll be back as fast as I can."

I keep my sisters' warmth against me for just a while longer. "I love you all, fam."

I kiss the tops of all of their heads, and they all give teary "I love you Torque"s back before they're forced to leave.

Bev and Jost are the last to come.

I stand up. "Alright, get it over with. Call me Carl." I try to lighten the mood. Bev looks for a second like she's going to laugh, but instead bursts into tears.

"Damn you!" she shouts, smiling through the tears as she practically knocks me over in a tight hug. I hug her back. "You have to get your ass back home!" she sobs. "You have no choice!"

"I know. I'll do the best I can. If I don't, though, keep an eye on the girls, alright? Don't let Fiona watch too much, she won't be able to handle it."

"Damn you," she sobs.

"Sorry I was reaped," I say sarcastically. "I'll try harder for that not to happen next time."

She lets out a small laugh-sob. I take Jost into a tight hug after that. I can feel his heart beating hard with nerves and fear.

"Please get home," he says quietly. "I need you to come back home." He buries his face in my neck and takes in the sent, breathing deeply.

"I'll do everything in my power."

I let him go, but he keeps his hands on my shoulders. He looks me in the eyes, his brown eyes wide and teary. He looks like he has words on his lips, but he swallows them back down and breaks eye contact to reach into his pocket and press a coin into my hands.

"Take this as a token," he says.

It's silver. "No, this should go to my family and Ree, not me, it-"

"I'm giving it to you. Make it home so you can give it to them."

I swallow hard, but nod. "Alright. I will."

I wrap my arms around him again, and he hugs me back. I open my arms to Bev, and she joins in. We stay in a tight huddle, and I can feel both of them gasping and sobbing.

"I'll be home soon. I'll do everything I can. Love you guys."

"Love you too," Bev says quietly.

"L-Love you too," Jost says, between sobs.

Bev takes his hand. "We have to go now," she says quietly. Jost swallows hard, giving me one last look and nodding before they leave together.

Lorelei appears and gathers us just then, and escorts us out to the Train, where everything I ever knew and loved will disappear into the great unknown.

 _ **A/N: Hi everyone! So while I wait for the rest of the tributes to come in, I'll probably shift my focus more towards my full SYOT Silhouettes, which I'm pretty sure the vast majority of you have tributes in. But I had the inspiration and wanted to run with it.**_

 _ **Yeah, remember when I said I was going to do the reapings in three chapters? I changed my mind, I'm doing four with 2 POVs each. Next will be... Lindsay and Trekker!**_

 _ **! ATTENTION ATTENTION ATTENTION IMPORTANT INFO ! Torque is agender, and only uses the pronouns they/them. Please, avoid referring to Torque as "he/him" in your review.**_ _ **I really hope that Torque is relatable and realistic to my NB readers, so I'd really appreciated input on how I did with them. Writing NB characters is still new to me, but exciting! I hope that through writing Torque I'm able to extend the boundaries of some of my readers and myself as a writer!**_

 _ **Still keeping track of scores. Soon I'll start a Charahub for this story, much like I did for 36. And, as always for partials, my Hunger Games Tumblr blog (seaweed-hands-from-hell) (link is on my profile) is where I'll be posting drawings/headcanons/the like for 42, under the tag "Celtic's next!syot" so check that out!**_

 _ **I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: How did you like Tempest and Torque? Which one did you like better?**_

 _ **See ya next time!**_


	4. Reapings: D8, D10

_-Trekker Tidwell, 18: District 8 Male-_

When I wake up, Brister is in my bed. The lamp is on. I glance over at his vacant bed and wonder why he's here and not over there.

I glance at the sleeping 10-year-old, curled up close to me, laying above the rags I call covers (probably trying not to wake me), covered with his stringy rag that serves as his favorite blanket.

I brush some of the dark hair out of my brother's closed eyes.

I can't be mad at Brister. Maybe I'd be pissed if it was any other night, but waking up this morning, I understand his fear damn well.

Quietly sighing, I wrap my arms around my brother and hold him close. He's warm and soft and he smells like home. His dark hair is getting shaggy, like mine.

He's definitely growing up, that's for sure.

I close my eyes and try to memorize this moment, freeze time, somehow prevent the reapings from happening. I wish I could do that for him, but I can't. Instead I just hold him tight and feel his warmth.

"Trekker?" he stirs and rubs his eyes.

"Bad dream?" I ask quietly.

"I'm sorry." But he nods.

"Sh… It's okay. I'm not mad."

Mad. Lately all I've ever been is mad. Angry at the world. People that tried to hurt me.

That's all anyone's ever wanted and will ever want to do, so I've stopped giving them the chance. Brister's the only person I really open up to anymore, and he's 10.

I have a friend or two, but I don't trust them and I certainly don't open up to them. Why should I? After how I was hurt, why should I invest any part of me into anyone?!

I can't turn on my television without seeing his stupid face.

Bronx Stringer. Victor of the 40th Hunger Games.

Every time I see that stupid scar they kept across his eye I remember him lying to me about it. Looking me into the eyes and _lying_. Pretending to be hurt and vulnerable, pretending he was confiding in me, but it was all _lies_.

I put everything I was into him and he did nothing but lie to me. He left and he never saw how much he hurt me. He never came back to talk to me after ruining my life.

He never came back.

Now I have to see his face everywhere.

He lied through his interview, he never cracked, never show any genuine part of himself, and somehow he won the Games. He should've died, but he won. The Capitolites ate all the lies straight from his hands. Just like I did, back when I was younger and much more naïve.

It makes me _sick_.

He fed District 8, so suddenly everyone loved him. I remember when the roles were reversed, when I was the well-liked one and he was hated and broken. But I was the one to come to his rescue. I was the one that reached out to him. Now I've been left with nothing, he has everything, and he hasn't come back for me.

He didn't deserve his victory. He should've died for his transgressions.

He ruined me, and it's not fair that he gets to live without any worries, not coming back to help me, or even say that he's sorry. Now I'm the one who's left to suffer, I'm the one that's been left alone to wither away and die, he's the one that has it all.

I should've seen it coming, but as I said, I was much younger and dumber. It's my own fault, I suppose, for believing his lies and thinking that he loved me even a little bit.

I stroke Brister's hair, brushing his shaggy bangs across his forehead. Oh, how I wish the reaping never touches him or anyone he loves.

I hold him close and stroke his hair, whispering reassuring words in his ear. "Brister… You're safe, you'll be okay…"

"But you!" He clutches onto me.

"Sh…" I don't want my little brother to cry. Not now.

"We'll be okay. I know we will be."

My brother's not usually this afraid and he never cries. He's usually the first to quiet fears and give a smile.

However, each year goes by faster and faster and suddenly, _"seven more years until the reaping even becomes a worry"_ has become just two. I just want to stop time.

Next year.

Next year, he'll be 11 and I'll be 19, and for once we'll both have the peace of knowing we're safe.

Then, the year after that, his name will be in the bowl. And if he's chosen, there's nothing I'll be able to do to save him.

But, first, I just have to make it through this year to earn a full year of security.

Brister's hair is fine and soft and it slips through my fingers.

"You'll be alright," I whisper. "I promise."

"I love you Trekker," he says, snuggling closer.

"I love you too." I kiss the top of his head. "Let's get out of bed and get ready for the reaping. Mom might give us some money for a treat if we give her big enough puppy eyes."

I let him go and he sits up, his gray eyes still slightly teary, but sparkling now with excitement at the prospect of visiting the bakery. "Okay!"

He gets out of bed and goes to his small closet to find his best clothes.

Our family's not well-off, but my parents work very hard and can sometimes spare a few cents on reaping days and large birthdays. My birthday is so close to reaping day that for 16 and 18, the reaping/birthday presents were combined. My next big birthday is 21, Brister's is 12. This year will only be my 19th birthday, though, so no big shindigs for me.

I go downstairs with Brister after we've both dressed and tried to tame shaggy hair and brushed our teeth. I can see how much he looks up to me: when I tweak my tie, he does the same thing a minute later. He copies the faces I make when I'm adjusting my hair in the mirror. When I put my hands in my pockets, so does he. When I smile, he enthusiastically returns the gesture. When I get to the bottom of the stairs and tie my shoe, he pauses to make sure both of his are tied as well.

He's a big 10-year-old, but he still gets inspired by his big brother.

I love him so much. He makes me smile. Nowadays, he seems to be the only one.

I used to smile all the time. I used to make people laugh. No longer.

We eat breakfast together, not talking, but enjoying each other's presence.

Mom appears in the kitchen just then (for once), and smiles at us. "My boys."

"Hi, Mom," I smile. Brister has a sad look in his eyes, and doesn't speak, so she hugs him first.

"How about I give you some change for a reaping day treat at the bakery?" We both nod eagerly. She ruffles my hair affectionately before going to get some coins to go buy something in the Square.

"Your father is working," she sighs, but we already knew it. "He wants to spend an hour or so at home with you boys after the reaping, though."

Brister's eyes light up. "Really?" It's not often our father stays home from work.

"Mhm," she smiles at him and I give a tiny smile.

"Wow! Can't wait! C'mon Trekker!" my brother takes my hand, "Let's get something tasty and sweet!" He tugs me to the door, but only after I'm able to hug and kiss my mother goodbye. Together, Brister and I go to the Square.

A girl smiles at me on the way but I can't make myself smile back at her. Nowadays, a smile from me is rare and intimate, saved only for family members and sometimes friends. Sometimes. I can't just smile at strangers anymore.

Brister takes me into the bakery.

He doesn't understand why I am how I am. He doesn't' understand why I so suddenly stopped being nice to strangers, why I suddenly shut down and lost all my friends. He doesn't understand, but he accepts it.

The next person to tell me I'm a whiny bitch or tell me I overreacted might actually get shanked in the face. I'm tired of feeling like I'm in the wrong for how I act after what he did. I haven't hurt a single person, I didn't hurt anyone but myself. I'm sorry I'm hurt because I put everything into someone that lied to my face about everything he was and I'm not jumping at the chance to risk it again. I spent night after night wishing he'd come back, apologize, and he never did. I spent so much time in tears and being hurt, and nobody knew, nobody understood.

It's not fair that he's happy and I can't believe anyone when they say that they love me. It's not fair, but I'm not going around offering my heart to everyone I see, not anymore. I'm going to make sure I never go through that again.

"Hey Tidwells!" Brister and I are stopped when a girl jogs towards us, wearing a tight black dress, dark hair pulled up in a ponytail.

"Hi Una!" Brister says cheerfully.

She ruffles his hair, causing him to squeak but laugh.

"Going for a treat before the reaping?"

"Yeah!" chirps Brister. We go into the bakery and look at the assorted sweets.

Una is well-off financially, so treats like this are familiar to her. She gets herself a small chocolate cake, Brister and I get a brownie to share. I eat my half, enjoying the rich taste of chocolate in my mouth. The brownie is dense and fluffy and overall delicious.

I give them a small, barely meaningful smile, and they smile back.

Brister beams at me with a full mouth, causing me to truly smile in public for the first time in a long while.

"So, what's new in the life of Brister?" Una asks. "How's Coryn?"

My brother is best friends with a girl that lives next door to Una named Coryn Croft. She has a fair number of siblings, there are 6 of them total. Coryn is one of two twins, in the middle with two older than them and two younger.

Six is an amazing number of children to care for, the youngest being 5 and the oldest 17. They'll never have a year to relax until the youngest is 18.

Each of them have names that start with different letters of the alphabet, in alphabetical order from youngest to oldest. They're very confusing to keep track of, that bunch. They love Brister over there, but I haven't visited after what happened with Bronx.

In fact, it was the oldest Croft, Armoni, that told me about Bronx's secret life and that he was a no-good scumbag that constantly liked to me. After that we just kind of stopped talking.

Brister still loves them, though.

"Coryn is good!" he says, smiling brightly.

"Yeah? That's good to hear." Una ruffles his hair as some of his many friends notice him and call to him.

He looks over at me and back at them. I know what he wants.

"Go with them," I say, the genuine smile melting into a lonely one.

Brister gives me a quick hug. "I'll see you after the reaping," he says, "Love you."

I hug him back. "Love you too."

He runs off, waving to me. Una and I exit the bakery together, not talking. I don't talk to her very often. She spent a while trying to get me to open up, and I didn't budge, so she gave up. She's lucky I still talk to her, that's more than I can say for most of my friends.

"How're you holding up?" she finally asks.

"Fine. I'll be fine."

She puts a hand on my shoulder. "Of course you will. And so will I."

I nod a bit. She flips the dark hair over her tan shoulder and gives me a look.

"You can talk to me if something's bothering you."

I shake my head. Even if there's no risk of falling for her, I still can't take it, I can't trust anyone.

"Thanks Una," I mutter, trying not to sound annoyed. I know she means well. "But you know I can't."

"I will get up on that stage and beat the living shit out of Stringer for you," she says.

"No, no thanks. Feel free to beat the shit out of him, but preferably not somewhere you could be arrested." Who can forget the public whippings, executions, and arrests that have been plaguing this District lately? If it were Una up there, it would not be pretty.

I walk with her, her having given up on talking.

I like Una, but I still can't trust her, I'll never trust anyone again.

And yet, Bronx still has no idea what he did to me and lives blissfully unaware of my misery. Or maybe he's aware and just not sorry. It could be either.

"Hi Trekker!" calls Coryn just then, as her and her twin brother Devlyn.

"Oh, hi," I say. I can't make myself feel happy to see her.

Coryn bounces on her feet. "Hi Una!" she beams and waves, giving my friend a big hug. "Where's Brister?" Her blue eyes are alight with curiosity and excitement.

"He went off with Keir and that group."

"Oh, okay."

"Where's Armoni?" asks Una.

"At the reaping already, I think," says Coryn, her face falling.

"We should be on our way, too," sighs Una. Coryn wraps her arms around her again.

"Be safe Una!" she says. "Be safe Trekker."

I make a small hmph noise.

Una takes my arm and guides me the rest of the way to the Square. After walking together for a bit, we stand in line to be checked in.

Una wants to talk, I can tell, but I'm really not in the mood. I'm never really in the mood.

We separate with a disconnected goodbye and eachgo to our sections.

I feel slightly numb by now. After all I've been through, it's hard to care about a reaping.

Maximus, the District 8 escort, takes the stage, his bright orange hair practically giving me a headache.

"Welcome, one and all, to the District 8 reaping for the 42nd annual Hunger Games! How exciting!" he smiles brightly at us, but nobody returns it. He huffs before continuing. "Now we stay with tradition and pick our lucky lady first." He goes over to the bowl on the left and picks out a name. "Abigail Cabalina!"

The cameras find a girl with crazy curly red hair in the 13 section, who already has tears streaming down her face. She goes up to the stage slowly, sobs escaping her. She looks so small and innocent up on that stage as Maximus goes to pick the boy's name.

I look over and see Bronx Stringer sitting there, next to Ritter Pyle, the Victor of the 35th Games. _Fitting_ , I think, scowling. _Both assholes._

I see the brown-green of Bronx's eyes on me just as I hear, "Trekker Tidwell!" called loud and clear on the mic.

I tear my eyes away from him, from them. I feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on me. I can't make myself move. Tears push at my eyes, I hear Brister screaming and sobbing and I can't make myself move.

"Trekker? Trekker Tidwell?" He has to speak loudly to overpower Brister's shouting. I feel a shove of rough hands and stumble forward, making my way up to the stage with an amazing lump in my throat. I do everything I can to keep from sobbing in front of everyone as I'm shoved at the stairs and slowly climb up, as Brister's screams go to sobs and finally are muffled by him burying his face in our mother's side.

"Very good! Alright, shake hands you two." I reach out my hand stiffly, making contact with her dull green eyes, looking so wide and sad. She takes my hand, quivering, and shakes it, and we're escorted back into the Justice Building.

.

Both of my parents come in, Brister nestled tightly between them. As soon as his eyes meet mine, he lets out another sob and runs over, throwing his arms around me and sobbing. "Trekker!" he screams, at the top of his lungs. I hug him tightly, feeling a tear roll down my cheek.

"Sh…" I say, my voice quiver, "Sh…"

"Trekker!" he says, and I press his face into my chest. I feel his jagged breathing, the vibrations of his sobs against my chest. I bury my face in his hair, inhaling. I brush some of it out of his eyes, and he stares at me tearily.

"You're alright," I say quietly.

"But you!" he sobs, "Trekker!" He clutches tightly to my shirt. "Win!" he shouts, shaking with sobs.

"I'm going to win-"

"WIN!" he shouts at the top of his lungs, shaking me a bit by the shirt. He buries his face again, letting out sobs. I hold him tight as my parents sit next to me, each of them giving me a hug and a kiss goodbye.

We stay in a tight huddle until they're forced out by Peacekeepers.

Next in is Una, who takes me into a tight hug. I can't mayke myself cry in front of her, for some stupid reason. I just remember the tears I shed in front of Bronx and how invested in him I was. I just hug her, not crying, not making a single sound. It's hard when I'm not attached to her anymore and she's not attached to me. There should be feelings of immense sadness, but all I feel is dull, numb pain. She cries a bit, but probably just thinking about Brister. I've detached myself from them, after all, all of them, except for my family.

"You can do it," she whispers.

"Mhm."

She lets go of me, her brown eyes sad. "Will you ever be the Trekker you were?" she asks me, putting a hand on my cheek.

"I don't know," I say, my voice devoid of all sadness and hurt. I take her hand off my face. "Probably not."

She looks sad, but I can't feel anything for her. "Sorry Una." I wish I felt sorrier.

"It's okay. I love you Trekker, and I know you can make it home."

"Hm." I don't believe her. I don't return the words. I won't say it if I don't mean it and I wouldn't mean it. She seems to understand this, and she walks out with tears streaming down her face.

Maximus gathers Abigail and me, and together we're escorted to the train. I step on, keeping my face as numb and devoid of emotion as I feel. The 13-year-old seems to have calmed herself down.

"Trekker Tidwell. We meet again."

The familiar voice paralyzes me, causing me to clench my fists and teeth as I slowly raise my head to look at him.

Bronx Stringer. Victor of the 40th Hunger Games.

~.~.

 _-Lindsay Halter, 15: District 10 Female-_

I didn't speak a single word to him and I still see him in my dreams.

I never talked to Mick Evans, but and yet I feel like I know everything about him.

I still lie awake at night thinking about those poor dogs. They were loyal to him, which means he must have been remarkably loyal to them. I had food, the promise of warmth, and with all the coaxing I could do I couldn't convince them to come with me. I didn't know their names, but my heart broke for them. They sat out there, in front of the Justice Building, waiting for him to come back. Through the summer and the fall, they must have been fed scraps by sympathetic District people, but when the weather got colder they were forgotten about. I tried to help them, but I wasn't fast enough. Those precious, loyal companions.

I stare at the ceiling. When I was twelve, thirteen, the tributes from District 10 were older, stoic and quiet and strong. It almost felt like they belonged in the Games, in a disgusting and demented way. I guess that's why it was such a shock when the boy from 10 was the most unfit for the Arena we'd ever seen. It was the year we realized that no matter how kind you are, how much you don't belong in that Arena, nobody's safe from the reapings. His District partner was 12, younger than me, had to go and fight in an Arena. She died the first day.

It was a shock to the District. District 10's so big that of course the majority didn't even go to school with Mick, but he was a personality type we all knew. Light-hearted and kind, sweet and not fit to kill, compassionate and kind. He died sacrificing himself for his 14-year-old ally. I remember how shaken the District was. Even sitting at home I was mad at him. I was 14 at that time, and I was just wondering why he gave himself for a little boy that had no hope. He should've gone and he didn't. That's what shook all of us the most. That, and the fact that he still died with a smile. He didn't regret it, not even a little bit.

Maybe if he saw what happened to his ally, he would've regretted it. But he was such an open book, I feel like I know him well enough to tell that the only reason he would is that it would've been a quicker death for Avogadro. Not for any selfish reasons.

His family probably isn't much better off than mine. Luckily, we live close to the District area, so I'm able to go get bread from the bakery and the walk to the reaping isn't too incredibly long.

I'm not going to get back to sleep, not a prayer. But I don't want to get out of bed. I've found the perfect position on the bed, and I've managed to cover all the holes in my blanket for once, protecting me from the chilly breeze of a summer morning. I'm so comfortable and warm, but it's a blessing and a curse. I feel like I could possibly nod off again, go back to sleep without dreams, but I know I can't. That taunting factor is what keeps me wide awake, counting the planks of wood that make up the ceiling.

I wish my father and brother were able to understand why I do what I do. They believe animals to be less than humans, that humans should eat first and then if there's anything to spare feed the animals. He tells me that I waste food feeding animals and if I'm not going to eat it anyways, he and Darrow should have it. I can't understand how they can see a starving animal, looking up at you like you're its last hope, because you are, and just turn and leave.

Darrow could have more to eat and spend less time whining about it if he'd just do some work for once. He only has two more reapings left, and when that's over I already let it be known that I'm not taking double tesserae. I love my family, really, but I'm not going to put my name in the bowl more times to compensate for the fact that my brother is lazy. He always does the bare minimum, but someday the bare minimum isn't going to be enough. For now, I'm holding strong. Hopefully I don't crack, though it seems that I'm susceptible to cracking for my family's will. Probably because I feel so bad for all the work that my mother puts in and no gain.

I stare at the ceiling until I see the sun come in through the window and realize I should probably get out of bed soon.

I sit up, taking the blanket off and surrendering to the cool breeze of having it off. As the day goes on, I won't want to have a blanket anyways.

I take a bath in the tub, savoring the feeling of scrubbing the dirt off my dark tan skin and dark hair. I dry off as best as I can with what I have, and change into a brightly-colored sundress, and my favorite brown cowgirl boots. I put my hair into two loose, loopy pigtails and put on a beige Stetson because I can and I'll need it to save my face and eyes from the brutal light of the sun. I go into the main room, where Darrow is already sitting with my father.

"Oh, you're awake," Darrow remarks. "About time. I was about to make like the dogs and eat your portion of breakfast. And I was really tempted, too."

He hands me a small piece of bread. I'm lucky I like the foot of it, because that's most always what I get. Even if my family does stuff like this to me sometimes, I'm just lucky that I'm headstrong enough to not let it bother me. I don't like letting people get to me, especially not them. So I can take whatever they throw at me with a positive attitude and an assurance that I believe what I believe.

I take the small foot of bread and put most of it in my mouth, savoring the taste of food and having something in my stomach.

"Is Mom really working?" I sigh.

"Of course she is," Dad says, "Because her hard-earned food is being wasted on _animals_." He gives me a look.

I turn away, eyes avoiding his, and hold onto the part of bread I didn't eat, hoping to be able to feed it to an animal that needs it on my way to be checked in for the reaping.

"Tell Mom that I'll talk to her after the reaping," I say. "I'm going to go now so I can meet with my friends."

"What friends? You mean the rats?" asks my father, earning a chuckle from Darrow.

"No," I say, my voice edged with anger, but staying mostly calm. "Lillie, Ella, and Dari."

I turn around and start out the door, tensing up when Darrow says, "Damn, I should've just eaten the bread. Then at least Mom's work would've had _some_ payoff."

I keep my fists clenched as I walk to the Square, feeling the crust of bread in my left hand, searching for a creature that needs it more than I do. As I walk past teens waiting for their friends to appear to walk to the reapings together, I see two girls waiting. The taller one has her blonde hair put up in a ponytail, her figure looking pale and thin. The younger one has shorter blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, wearing a nice sunhat that's obviously too big for her, and starts waving when she sees me.

"Hi Lindsay!" she calls.

"Hi," I say, smiling as I approach. Ella is the only one of my core friend group that isn't 15. She's 13, and also Lillie's sister, and we took her under our wings because she was too shy to make friends in her grade. From there, she never stopped being close with us. Sometimes it's hard to have her around, because though two years isn't much when you're 20 and 22, it's a big difference between 13 and 15. Even so, we can't say no to Ella.

Lillie gives me a hug, which I'm expecting as I hug back. Lillie's definitely a hugger. But I love that. She always makes me feel safe and secure. "Hey," she says as she's hugging me tightly, but not too tightly. Just how I like my hugs.

"How're you holding up?" I whisper in her ear so Ella can't hear.

She gives a side glance to her younger sister and sighs a bit, and I know without her saying anything that it's not good news. Up close, the 13-year-old's eyes are puffy like she'd been crying, and her eyes are red. I can't help it, I give her a hug, as well. She likes her hugs lighter, but I can't help hugging tight.

"I brought some extra bread," I say, "Want to find a dog to feed it to?"

Her eyes light up. "Oh, yeah!" Lillie smiles. I'm glad my friends understand why I like to reach out to helpless creatures.

We wait a little longer for Dari, who lives further out, and starts running when she sees us, waving. Hugs and greetings are exchanged as the summer sun makes me start to sweat. I wish I didn't have to smell like sweat all the time. I'm pretty sure in the Capitol they don't sweat, but they also have stuff that makes sweat smell like nothing, or even sweet. If only _that_ were in mass production here. And if only we could even dream of affording it if it was.

The four of us walk together, arms liked, recognizing some of the faces we see on the way waiting for their friends, as we make it to the sunny, main area of the District where the reapings are to be held. We walk around, not even looking at the stores but just enjoying the sun and warmth, even if it's humid and slightly hard to breathe.

"There!" says Ella, pointing. When we look, between two of the buildings is a cat with matted hair and golden eyes, that turns to look at us and starts to draw back. The others step back, and I approach the poor creature slowly and gently, holding the bread out to it at a distance. I put the crust on the ground and step back, leaving the cat to approach it slowly and take the bread into its mouth, eating.

I smile and go back to my friends, nodding. Even if the cat is still afraid of me, at least it had something of a meal.

Together, my friends and I get in line with all the District's other teens. A lot of them wear Stetsons and other sunhats to protect their eyes and faces. The clothes are dirty, a lot of them wear boots, and most of us are sweaty and stinky. We get to the front of the line and the lady takes blood from us. I bite my lip when it happens and hiss despite myself. I know it's not bad, but it still catches me off guard. Ella whimpers when they do it to her, and Lillie calms her.

We all give Ella one last hug and some reassuring words before we have to separate. Luckily, though, I have Lillie and Dari with me. Lillie takes my hand, though hers is sweaty and hot, it's nice to have the comfort of having her there. She takes Dari's hand and we all stand together in the 15s section.

Our escort is a man named Inspektor, who started escorting less than ten years ago. I remember his first year, when he was so young and ambitious, aiming for District 5 or 6 or even 3 someday. I was… 7 or 8 at the time, it was some Games in the mid-thirties. Anyways, now he's just kind of sick of this horse dung. Aren't we all?

"Welcome, District 10, to the reaping for the 42nd Annual Hunger Games. We start with our video."

We're all forced to watch the video, the deaths of people, real people with minds and hearts and minds, a reminder of the horrors of war. I always want to throw up when I see the video, how could I possibly last in an Arena?

"As is custom, we choose our female tribute first." He clears his throat and walks to the bowl, choosing a name. He comes back to the mic, and my heart suddenly drops to my stomach.

I watch his lips form the syllables of my name. "Lindsay Halter!"

Lillie gasps, she turns to me, her brown eyes exploding with hurt and sadness. Tears start to form. She holds my hand tighter. Dari looks likes she's about to say something, but I shake my head at her.

I move forward, shuffle out of the crowd, and when I hear the pin-drop silence of another hopeless tribute being reaped, the tears form and start to roll down my cheeks. As my foot touches the first step of the stage and a creak sounds, echoing across the crowd of hundreds, I let out a sob, that floats around and touches the masses like a breeze, like a ghost.

Inspektor nods and smiles at me before he goes over to the boy's name, ignoring the sobs that tear out of my throat and escape my lips. I quiver uncontrollably as he reads the boy's name.

"Hartwin McCoy!" A boy steps out of the 18-year-olds. He's muscular, tall, and strong-built, with neat brown hair. His expression is full of contempt, hatred, even, as he makes the journey to the stage. He steps up to the stage and his eyes bore so angrily and deeply into mine that I feel three feet tall. I'm average height for my age, and he towers over me. I bet everyone's relieved that we have a tribute that might stand a chance in the Arena.

I'm…. I'm going to die. If I don't kill, I'm going to die. With the realization, I burst out into another sob.

"Alright, shake hands now!" Inspektor pushes us closer together. He shakes my hand tightly, and I let out another sob before we turn and walk into the Justice Building.

.

My mother comes first. She's thin, starving, and sleep-deprived. Goodness knows how late she was working last night.

I hug her tightly, sobbing. "Mom!"

"Sh… I've got you…" But we both know she doesn't have me for very much longer. She hugs me tight and I let out my tears, in a series of miserable, screaming sobs. I feel my mother taking jagged breaths and hear her let out a sharp cry as she hugs me tighter, quivering. That does nothing to help my fear.

"I c-can't t-take lives… I c-can't even p-pass up animals!" I sob.

She lets go of me, putting her hands on my shoulders and looking into my eyes, two identical pairs of brown irises looking into each other. "Lindsay… You're going to have to forget who you are to live, alright? Just for a little while. Whatever you do in there, you'll be forgiven when you come home, alright?"

I sob a bit, but nod to appease her. She hugs me again.

"That's my girl…" she says. She's not fooled for a second though, and neither am I.

"I love you," I say quietly, and she hugs me tighter, saying it back and repeating it over and over. We stayed huddled together in warmth for a while before they force her to leave.

Darrow comes in next. He does something surprising, he takes me into a hug. It's brief, but tight, and reassuring for some reason.

"I really don't want you to die," he says. "I don't." I believe him.

"I d-don't want to die!" I sob.

"You just need to hide it out, stay low, survive, and then you'll only have to make a few kills and you can come home."

I start sobbing. "I can't!"

"You will, when it comes to it." He doesn't sound like he believes it. "I know you will, it's just the instinct." I don't mention Mick, dying for someone else.

"I can't promise anything," I say, quivering as I wipe at my cheeks.

"Alright. I know you can. You will. So get home quick. I want to say I have a little sister. I want you to be around still."

"Thanks," I sniffle. He waves, mumbling a quiet "Love you" before he goes.

Lillie and Dari rush in next. Lillie throws her arms around me, letting out sobs. "Lindsay!" she sobs, hugging me tightly.

Dari stays behind, braiding one of her black ponytails as her brown eyes release tears that down her dark cheeks. Dari was always the one of us that hid emotions, and now is no exception. Lillie sometimes gets frustrated that Dari doesn't like to show vulnerability to us, but now in this moment I can understand how she feels.

Lillie gasps out words, mostly "Lindsay" and "I love you."

I hug Dari when Lillie lets go, but soon the blonde girl joins the hug again, sobbing and yelling.

"I'll try to forget who I am," I sniffle, voice shaking. "If it means I can get back home."

"Ella wanted to come, but she was in awful condition and we decided it'd be better if she go home," says Dari quietly.

"I understand," I say, sniffling as my voice quivers.

"She gave me this to give you." She holds out a necklace with a charm on it shaped like a horseshoe.

"Tell her thank you," I say, as Dari puts it around my neck.

"She says she loves you," Lillie sobs out, "And I do too… You have to come back!"

"I'll have to k-kill people," I say, my voice an octave higher.

"It's okay," says Dari. Lillie swallows hard and hesitates, but nods a bit.

I take my friends into one last hug. "I love you guys," I say quietly. "I'm sorry if I die."

"Please come home…" Dari says quietly. "I love you too."

"Love you!" sobs Lillie.

We let go and Dari puts her arm around Lillie's shoulders, who leans heavily against her. They both give me one last pained look before they're forced to leave.

I let out another sob, feeling helpless and desperate. Inspektor comes to gather us, and though Hartwin doesn't seem phased or bothered, I still can't stop the tears that roll down my face.

I can't do this… No matter what they say…

Even so, I've never been one to give up without a fight.

 _ **A/N: Heyo! I should probably be working on 84 but eh. I was feeling this one so I wrote this one. Anyways, I don't think I have much more to say. I guess it's late and I'm tired so I don't really have any excited messages for you. Well. This is a first. A decently-sized A/N.**_

 _ **Tag on Tumblr for this story is still #celtic'snext!syot, and you can ask these tributes questions that will be answered on the blog seaweed-hands-from-hell. I'll only answer the questions if they're for tributes that have been introduced already though. If there's one for a tribute that hasn't been introduced yet I'll just let it sit until that character's introduced.**_

 _ **Chapter Question: How'd you like Trekker and Lindsay? Which did you like better?**_

 _ **Next chapter, District 6's Wyatt Calistro and District 12's Monterey Kaminska!**_


	5. Reapings: D6, D12

_-Wyatt Calistro, 16: District 6 Male-_

I wake up and just feel plain depressed.

These kinds of days are the worst, especially when everyone around me has their own shit to deal with.

I have no reason to feel sad, really, until I go through my plan for the day and realize that it's reaping day.

Oh. I guess I do have reason to be upset.

I roll out of bed, my feet not making a single noise as they hit the ground gently. I creep past my sleeping brother and go into the washroom to try and wake myself up.

I glance at myself in the small mirror we have, my brown skin, dark hair that is currently crazy with bedhead, and sad, heavy brown eyes that are usually lively with emotions, but today almost muted.

I know sometimes my mother can't stand to look at me because I look so much like Dad. Dad, instead of raising children and having a family and working, decided to leave our mother and family in favor of a younger, richer woman with bigger breasts. They have a house in the District now, so we never see them.

Good riddance.

Although… Most of the time, I wish we had a father figure. I mean, I'm only 16, not really much of a man at all.

Mom says it really doesn't matter, that I do fine, but I don't entirely believe her when she goes off on those kinds of things. Most of the time, though, she's more distant than anything. Sometimes she goes into spells where she doesn't do anything, almost like a daydream. It scares Elise and Stanton, but I've learned how to deal with it.

A lot of time time, though, my mother fails to see the difference between fantasy and reality. I keep the two very distinctly apart.

Fantasy: Stanton and Elise have a "father figure" in me.

Reality: I'm a 16-year-old boy that just dropped out of school last month.

Since I've been away from my familiar classmates and best friend Sid, I've become more withdrawn than ever. Elise noticed, Mom noticed, even Stanton noticed. I think my Mom's still in denial that working is having an impact on me. She doesn't want to think it does, but somewhere deep down she has to know.

I mean, even before I started to work I never talked a lot. I still don't, never have, probably never will. It's just not my style to want to be the center of attention all the time.

Sure, that means I get forgotten a lot, pushed to the side, stepped on, but that's fine. It prevents conflict.

Maybe it hurts when my coworkers forget I exist and I eat lunch alone, or when Sid's friends plan a surprise party for him and they forgot to invite me, or when Mom asks where I am when I've been in the room for half an hour, but it keeps conflict at bay and reduces the need for confrontation.

I really do like it this way.

Sid always remembers me. Stanton, Elise, and Mom always try.

I'm just… Quiet. Not depressed or angry or antisocial, just quiet. I still express emotions through various gestures and I still want to spend time with people, I'm just quiet.

My family tries to understand.

My best friend Sid is the most social person I know, but he's also an introvert. When he gets exhausted with being around people, he knows where to find me for some relaxing quiet time. It's those moments I feel are the most intimate of them all.

That's why Sid considers me his best friend, even though a lot of time we spend together is spent in silence.

Certain people just get it. And some just don't. Which is fine.

I put my reaping clothes on while Stanton still sleeps. My footsteps are silent. The boy doesn't stir.

" _Wyatt should be a ninja when he grows up!"_ Stanton commented one time, when he was 7.

" _No! Then he'd have to go away!"_ Elise squealed, hugging my arm. _"He'd miss us too much! Wouldn't you Wyatt!?"_ I smiled and nodded and patted her head, and she giggled.

Of my family, she most understands how I express love through motions, not words.

I creep over to my mother's bedroom to check if she had chosen to go to work or sleep in. She really deserves to have some rest.

When I look in, Elise is sleeping in her bed, but my mother is nowhere to be found.

I sigh quietly. She must've gone to work today after all.

At least Elise is sleeping. She's never been the type to fret with reaping nightmares.

Elise is 14, so she's growing up pretty quick. The time really does fly.

Soon, Stanton will be in the reaping…. For two horrible years, all three of us will be eligible to go into the Hunger Games. If Stanton is ever reaped, it would rest on me to volunteer for him, even if I don't have a chance in the world (which I don't and I never will). I try to shake off the nerves when I realize how my hand quivers as it's separating pieces of stale bread for the three of us for breakfast.

I sit and eat silently, glancing at the clock. I don't want to wake my siblings up until the very last moment. I eat silently, wishing I had more. Who wouldn't, when you're next to starving?

Stanton is the first to come out to the kitchen, dressed very sloppily in reaping clothes. His shirt's half-unbuttoned and not tucked in, he isn't wearing shoes. His black hair is sticking up everywhere, his eyes still groggy from sleep.

He's always been an early riser.

He rubs his eyes, not saying anything as he sits down and takes the bread I offer him.

We sit quietly and watch each other eat. He's usually a chatterbox, but is silent today from nerves. We're both quiet, watching each other. I can tell he's watching me, waiting for me to emote somehow. Since he's not eligible yet, he'll react however I do, however Elise does.

I smile at him.

It's hard, sure, but as his brother it's kind of my job to at least try to put his worries to rest. His eyes light up with a kind of hope that it'll be okay. He immediately starts to chatter, as if a barrier has been broken with the simple action of a smile.

"Good morning Wyatt! I had this crazy dream last night where I was in the woods and Elise was there riding a deer and she had a crown of twigs on and she asked me where you were and we were tryin' to find you and she was magic like a fairy and I was a knight and we were looking for you but you were invisible and I know you were there but you were invisible so we were looking for you and calling 'Wyatt!' and Mom came but-"

Elise walks into the kitchen, rubbing her brown eyes. She's not dressed yet, but she still has time.

"Elise! I was just telling Wyatt about this crazy dream I had! You were a woodland princess and you were riding a stallion, and I was a royal knight with a big sword and-"

Elise sighs, waving her hand tiredly. "Yeah, I heard." She plops down on a creaky seat at the table, and I hand her some bread to eat for breakfast. She takes it and nibbles on it, looking upset.

She sighs quietly, her brown hair sticking up all over in crazy waves and curls.

Of course she's nervous, she's only 14. Each year the reaping becomes more and more terrifying. Mostly because each year the reaping becomes even more of a reality. Suddenly, we're not kids anymore. We can't be. We have to fight and kill to live. It's horrible. Sick. I couldn't handle it. I suddenly feel afraid again, starting to shake slightly.

Elise notices, and she gets up quickly, mumbling something about getting changed for the reaping. I make eye contact with Stanton and quickly remember that I have a reason to keep smiling. I put on a smile again and stand up, and he does the same. I walk over and he lets me help him tuck in his shirt and do the rest of the buttons. I fix his collar and give him a pat on the shoulder.

Elise comes back out, just then, wearing her reaping dress. Her hair is slightly tamer now.

"We should be going, right?"

I nod. I take Stanton's hand and then hers. Together, we leave the house.

Stanton keeps trying to run ahead, but settles for swinging our hands back and forth quickly as we go. Elise is calm, she holds my hand tightly as if I can do something to save her from the reaping.

We pass my mother on the way home from work. Stanton lets go of my hand to run over to her, waving. "Hi Mom!" he calls, giving her a hug. She looks up, her brown eyes looking distant.

"You're all ready," she says, before taking Stanton off of her. "Dear, don't hug me, you'll get your nice clothes dirty."

She wipes the grease off her face, a sad look in her eyes. I know how much she hates working, and I understand it. I hate it too.

"Good luck at the reaping, you two," she says. Her voice sounds distant. She gives us a sad look, and takes each of our hands and squeezes them to keep from getting our clothes dirty. I squeeze back, giving her a reassuring look. She lets go and I bow so that she can kiss the top of my head, like I've done when I was just a little kid. That seems to reassure her. She kisses the top of my head as she always has. She kisses Elise's forehead, who looks close to tears, squeezing my hand.

Stanton goes home with Mom, while Elise and I keep going to the reaping. She squeezes my hand harder as we walk. I can tell by how she walks that her feet hurt in the shoes she's wearing, but she doesn't seem intent on taking them off any time soon. We walk until we reach the main District area. She moves closer to me as we walk through the jam-packed streets. There are people everywhere, bumping into each other and walking around, trying to kill time before the reaping. Elise always said that she was afraid if she didn't stick by me she'd lose me in the crowd. I tend to wander and can be spacey at times, so it's definitely possible.

Elise sees a group of girls, and waves to them quickly. She lets go of me and runs over to them, shouting a quick goodbye over her shoulder.

She gets halfway to the waving blonde girl before she turns around and runs to me again, throwing her arms around me. Some middle-aged guy bumps me walking past, muttering "stupid kids" under his breath. I'm pretty sure Elise flips him off behind my back.

I hold my sister close and she hugs me tightly. "I love you Wyatt… I'll see you after the reaping, okay?" she sniffles and buries her face in my stomach, crying quietly.

"Sh…" I say quietly, putting a hand on her head to stroke her shoulder-length chestnut hair and stroking it gently. "Sh… I'll talk to you later okay?"

"Okay," she cries quietly, hugging me tighter and burying her face deeper, squeaking with sobs.

"Sh…" I kiss the top of her head. "Sh."

I gently take her over, away from the stream of people, and crouch slightly to be her height.

"You'll be okay," I say quietly. "Find me afterward, alright?"

"Okay!" she says, not meaning for it to be loud but exclaiming from sobs.

"Sh… Look, there's Geneva, see? Sh…"

Gen comes over, glancing at Elise and looking concerned. "Hey Lise."

Elise hugs her tightly, squeaking again with another sob.

"Good luck Wyatt," she says sadly. I give her a nod in return.

I walk by myself a little bit, looking up at the smoggy sky. It's so cloudy and foggy and all-around just ugly, but it's home. I couldn't imagine anything better, anything different. I've just become used to the general dim grayness. I look at the tall buildings, some of which expel smoke like a volcano. The gray clouds billow up into the sky, kissing the air as they fade, at least somewhat.

"Wyatt! Wyatt!" I hear a voice calling and see my best friend Sid approaching on a skateboard, yelling out "Coming through!" and plowing people out of his way, all of who give him snarls and angry gestures. I try not to laugh. My best friend is… Kind of a lot to handle sometimes.

"Hey!" he has scabs on his knees from where he must've wiped out and adjusts the purple and red ballcap on his head. He has three caps he's collected over the years: a black one, that he's most commonly seen wearing backwards, the red and purple one, and a dark green one. He's always wearing one when I see him.

He's about to speak more but he turns around when a little girl pulls on his shirt.

"I can't find my parents," she says. She sounds calm though she can't be older than six.

"Oh no!" Sid says. "Well, I'm Sid, and this is my best friend Wyatt. We'll help you find them." The girl has tan skin and dark brown hair that she has up in a high ponytail. Her reaping clothes are smudged with dirt and grime. "What's your name, Sweetie? How old are you?"

"My name is Matilda, I'm 6! I lost my two front teeth because a boy punched them out!"

"That's not good!" Sid says, not sure how to react.

Matilda gives a grin, showing the two holes in her mouth. "That's okay though. After he did it I punched him back and he went crying to his Mama."

Sid raises an eyebrow. "Good girl!" he says, ruffling her hair.

"That's not what Mama said when I told her."

"Well your mama doesn't know what she's talking about."

"I love your hat!" she says, "And your skateboard! So cool!" she grins, showing so obviously the holes in her mouth as if showing them off.

"Oh, thanks! Let's go find your parents."

A girl with platinum blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail comes over just then.

"Matilda!" she says. We both look up at her and she takes Matilda's hand.

"This is my sister Pippa."

"Nice to meet you," Pippa says quietly, giving a polite and ever-so-slight curtsy signaling that they must be from higher up in the District. Looking at the two girls, it's almost impossible to believe that they're even remotely related.

"Hey, Tilda!" Sid calls as they're walking away. He takes off his hat and puts it on her head with a pat. "You be a good kid, okay?"

"Okay! Thank you so much Sid!" Pippa drags her sister off, who beams and waves at us.

Sid pats at his dark hair, now exposed in all its messiness.

"Do I look okay Wyatt?" he asks, giving me a glance. "Mack might be there, gotta make sure I look my best."

I snort. Macallister Bellamy is probably the straightest dude-bro douchebag there is. But Sid thinks he's hot shit. I dunno, I don't see him as being particularly buff or amazing under his clothes. Probably not even that big. N-Not that it matters to me anyways. Sid can do whoever he wants to, I won't mind.

Sid takes my hand just then, as a friendly gesture of support. _"Girls do it, why can't guys do it too?"_ he said. His chocolate brown eyes smile reassuringly at me, his dark hair sticking up all over the place. I squeeze his hand and we walk to the reaping together, ignoring the stares we get from people that surround us.

We don't release to have blood taken, and the prick causes me to wince and squeeze his hand. When that's done, we walk to the 16-year-old section together.

"Hey Softies," Mack says, flicking the backs of our heads. "Where's your hat?"

"I gave it to a little girl. She was a cool kid."

"Of course you did. So soft." He smirks. "If you're reaped make sure to remember to let go to each other. Unless you put super glue on your hands?"

"Nope. We're not dating or anything, just friends."

"Of course not," he says, smirking.

"What're you doing after the reaping?" Sid asks.

Mack shrugs. Sid looks hopeful. "Maybe-"

"I have to go the rest of the way to my section, later losers." He starts off, Sid glancing at his ass as he goes to the 17s. I sigh a bit.

The escort takes the stage just then. He escorted for District 1 his first few years, but apparently it caused such a butt-hurt among all the other escorts that he was bumped down: and he hasn't been happy about it since. Don't be off-put by the bright yellow and blue hair, lips, and outfit: he's a real downer.

"Welcome, one and all of District…" he groans as if he's vomiting out the word, " _Six_." He doesn't say another word before the video starts. When it's over, he scowls.

"First, our girl." He goes over to the girl's reaping bowl, shoves his hand in, and plucks out a strip. "Isa Garza."

The cameras find her, a girl with tan skin and shiny black hair slightly past her shoulders. She's short, and she walks to the stage slowly, a shocked look on her face. She makes it up as Rappucini half-heartedly asks for volunteers.

"It's pronounced _Ee_ -sa, not _Eye_ -sa," she says, then she looks straight into a camera and manages a smile. "I'm going to be your next Victor." her voice shakes slightly but she looks convincing. Rappucini blinks, surprised.

"Oh. Yes. Alright." He seems to perk up a little bit as he goes to pick the male's name. He takes a slip straight from the top. Sid squeezes my hand.

"Wyatt Calistro!"

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. I let go of Sid's hand and start on the way to the stage. I walk slowly, my vision blurring slightly as a path is cleared for me by the other guys. I start up the steps to the stage, still blinking in shock, unable to react or know what to feel. I feel lights on my face and see me up on the screen!

I jump a bit in shock. I look so shocked and unable to figure out what I feel. "Shake hands you two." Rapucinni seems slightly more animated with Isa's confidence, no matter how faked.

Isa takes my hand and shakes it with a tight grip.

.

I'm sure if Sid was reaped I'd have to wait forever to get in and see him. I don't have many there to see me though. I'm just Sid's quiet, forgettable friend. Nobody ever remembers me when he talks to them. Matilda probably doesn't remember me from this morning, for example.

My Mom is in first, and she's sobbing and screaming.

I hug her tightly. She hugs me so tight I feel like I'm going to suffocate. She hugs me tightly and sobs, screams, things that don't even make sense.

Stanton is hiding in the doorway, looking like a puppy that's just been hit. He shrinks when I look at him, sniffling and squeaking with tears. My mother lets go of me for a split second and I'm able to hug Stanton tightly. He buries his face in my chest, sobbing. "Wyatt!" he screams into my shirt. "Wyatt!"

"Sh…" I hold him close. "Sssshhh…" I hug him and stroke his soft hair. "Sh."

"Wyatt!" He sobs.

"I'm coming home," I say. I don't believe it exactly, but I can make myself say it for his sake. Tears drip out of my eyes as I hug him. My mother hugs me again, hugging both of us until I practically suffocate. I know I'm not made for the Games. They know it too. They're not dumb.

I hug him and Mom sobs, tears dripping down my face. We stay like that for a long time.

"I love you," I say quietly. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Stanton says, his voice quiet and quivering with tears.

"I love you too baby!" Mom sobs, hugging me tighter. The Peacekeepers have to rip my mother off of me, Stanton scurrying after them.

Elise comes in next, with a crying Geneva for moral support. I take my sister into a tight hug, stroking her hair and trying to prevent tears from dripping onto her head. I hold her tightly.

"Sh… It'll be okay. I'll come home."

She sobs louder. "Wyatt!" she sobs.

"Sh… I love you. I'll come home."

"I love you too!" she sobs, and I hold her. I know I won't be able to help her calm down, but I'll be there for her as she cries as much as I can.

They pull my sister away from me too, sobbing and kicking and screaming.

Sid comes in last. He looks completely different from how he usually looks. He isn't wearing his hat, his dark hair sticks up everywhere. His eyes, usually lively and bright, are dark and muted and red and pouring tears that drip down his cheeks.

He gives me a tight hug, sniffling and burying his face in my neck. Neither of us talk, neither of us need to. His hug is tight, but not suffocating, and comforting. I hold him and we sway side to side. Sid likes to sway when we hug, and I don't mind. We go back and forth for a while.

"I'll miss you when you're gone. But you're going to come back. I know you are."

"I'll come home," I say quietly.

"That's my Wyatt. Don't give up, please." He hugs me tighter, swaying side to side.

"I won't."

"Love you man."

"I love you too," I say quietly. He lets go of me and nods, making a small whimpering noise. Then, he walks out.

Rapuccini comes to collect me and Isa and together we all go out to the train to be taken to the great beyond.

~.~.

 _-Monterey Kaminska, 13: District 12 Female-_

I wake up nestled comfortably between Saul and Auntie Mabel. I close my eyes again and smile comfortably. What a nice thing to wake up to.

I eventually shift, waking up, apologetically disturbing my friends. I know that they like to sleep in, but I prefer to be an early riser. I thought we decided I'd be on the end this time so I could get out of bed without disturbing them. Auntie Mabel is a big mass to climb over, and I think that Ali is on her other side, so I crawl over Paul's thin, scrawny body.

I rub my eyes and stretch. Seems to be another day. Another day of nothing. I'll go to school, learn things, and go home and spend time with my friends. As always.

I yawn and stretch as the others start to wake up.

I love my friends. They're all very creative and fun-filled, and they like to talk to me.

Saul is a good friend. He's 20, and he has olive skin and dark hair like the other Seam people. Saul is blind, so he often walks with me and asks me to describe things to him. I love to describe things to Saul. It's a fun game to play when I have nothing to do.

Auntie Mabel is a sweet, plump woman with hair so gray it's almost blue, a missing tooth, and rosy cheeks. She's the wisest of all my friends, and she often gives me advice when I need it. I can always rely on her to help me when I need it.

Ali is 18. She's a bit of a ditz, but I still love her. She's always trying to find people that are good to look at. She's good at finding people that are attractive. She's extremely attractive herself. She's a blonde girl with bright blue eyes and red lips.

Then, to help me with school I have Abcde. She's 15. She gets really annoyed when people pronounce her names like the letters of the alphabet. It's pronounced "Absidy." She applied to get the spelling changed, but we haven't heard back from the guys in charge yet.

My friends are very good at helping me and they spend a lot of time with me. In fact, they follow me wherever I go. There is one that only comes to visit every so often, though. I don't like to talk about him. His name is Zeke. He's a savage. He gets very angry very fast and often destroys things. He carries a spear with a red feather tied to the end where the point is. It is very sharp.

He's not here today, though. Or, at least, I don't think he is.

I let my friends sleep when I see a woman in my doorway. She is tall and has olive skin and dark hair and she looks like me.

"Good morning Monterey," she says. This woman is called _Mom_. Mom is not around a lot. When she is around, though, she is often very invested in me. She apologizes a lot to me, and I'm not sure why. I like Mom alright, but I like my friends much better.

"Good morning Mom."

"It's reaping day today, honey. Do you need help changing into your reaping clothes?"

"No, thank you." Reaping day is what happens when a lot of people gather close together and a clown comes to entertain the District and chooses two names out of a bowl. Those people go up to the stage and act sad, and then they're presented to the District and they're going into the Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games, from what I've gathered, is a circus where lots of clowns gather and a lot of children try to fit in with them. They're the lucky audience members that participate in the circus. There are animals: I saw giant tigers one year: and there's always a big show as one of them is crowned the Ringmaster. Or, more commonly called, the Victor. After that, the Victor is applauded a lot. Then they go away. Then in the winter they come back, and they visit all the Districts with the traveling circus with lots of clowns. I think that District 12 is afraid of clowns, though, because they never like it when the circus comes.

All I know is that everybody dresses up really nice on reaping day, so that if they get chosen they'll look good on the cameras. District 12's only had one Ringmaster before, a long time ago before I was born. Even before Auntie Mabel can remember! I wonder if this year we'll have another.

I pull on my shoes as the others wake up.

"Good morning Monterey," Ali says. "It's going to be such a good day! Everyone dressed up in their best!"

"After the reaping we can write together," says Abcde.

"Oh yes!" I say. I enjoy writing with Abcde. I can write a lot of things. I like to write the alphabet, and I like to write my name. But I can also write papers and sentences and books. I just don't want to do that.

"What are you wearing, Monterey?" asks Saul.

I look in the mirror. "Well, I'm wearing a beige blouse on top. It buttons up in the front and has a collar. It is tucked into a navy skirt. The skirt reaches my knees. It is frayed and some strings hang off of it, but it's all I have. My shoes are a size too small. They're shiny and black and they have a strap that go across my feet and a slight heel. This is what I wore last year."

"Oh, yes, I remember."

"You look so beautiful, Monterey," says Auntie Mabel.

"Thanks," I smile.

"What did you do with your hair?" Saul asks.

"I left it down, as usual. It's getting really long, Saul, it's halfway down my back!"

He runs a hand through my hair. "I feel it."

"Monterey," says Mom, standing in the doorway.

"Hm?"

"Who are you talking to, Honey?"

She calls me honey a lot. I don't understand why.

"I'm talking to Saul. He asked me what I'm wearing."

"Who?"

"My friend, Saul. He's blind."

Mom doesn't like my other friends, which is probably why I don't care much for her whenever she's around. She told me they didn't exist. I don't know what her problem is, but for some reason she can't see them, even when Ali's gesticulating wildly.

"Sweetheart…"

I don't know what that word means. I think she referred to me.

"How about I braid your hair for you?" she asks.

"Alright."

I stand very still as she takes my dark hair and starts to work. I don't see what she's doing, but it doesn't take her very long.

"I'm sorry Dad and I are out working so often," she says sadly.

"It's alright." I'm still not sure why she's apologizing for working. I don't miss her or the one I call Dad, who I am just as indifferent to. Neither of them like my friends. They talk about me behind my back, I think, often saying things like they're worried for me and whispering to each other when I'm around. My friends, my real friends, will tell me what's on their minds. Even when it's not pretty.

"You're such a trooper," Mom says, patting my head and releasing my hair. It's all pulled back now in one big braid, and it's nice. I like it.

"Thank you for the braid," I say.

"Come on, let's get some breakfast."

"Alright." I turn back to my friends. "Come on, we're all going to have some breakfast."

Mom takes my hand, so I take Saul's hand in my available one, and together we all walk out to where Dad sits at the table, looking pained.

"There's my girl," he says, trying for a smile. He wraps his arm around me and squeezes. I'm not sure what he's doing. When he lets go, I blink at him. "Oh, honey… I'm so sorry."

"…It's alright."

He hands me some bread. I put some in my mouth. I offer it to the others, but they all say they've eaten already.

"Don't forget to thank Dad, Monterey," says Auntie Mabel.

"Thank you for the bread," I tell Dad. He smiles but looks sad and puts his arm around Mom's waist.

"I'm bored!" screeches Ali.

I glance over at her. "Tone it down a bit, would you?"

"Sorry," she giggles. She puts an arm around Saul.

"We need to find a new writing stick," Abcde says, "Remember from yesterday?"

"Oh yeah. I'll go after the reaping to find one."

"Dear… One what?"

I glance back over at Mom and Dad. "A new writing stick. Didn't you hear Abcde remind me?"

"No, Sweetie, we didn't."

"Your friends aren't real."

"Of course we are!" says Saul.

"For sure!" says Ali, and the others agree.

"You heard them. They said they're real."

My parents exchange a look and whisper to each other.

"Are they whispering again?" asks Saul. I nod sadly at him.

"Come on, Monterey. It's time for the reaping to start." Mom takes my hand again, and Dad the other. I glance back behind me at the others, but they all nod that it's okay for me to go with them. I know that they'll all be close behind.

"Are you going to be alright at the reaping? Do you have a friend to stand with?"

"Mhm," I say. I have a bunch of them.

Mom and Dad stop at a long line of other children.

"You'll be alright?"

"Of course." I give the others a look.

"Good luck, Monterey. We love you," my father says, kissing the top of my head.

 _What does that mean?_

My friends all shrug.

"So long," I say. They walk off and I watch them go.

I stand in line with the other kids, not making a sound. My friends aren't here anymore, not physically, but they're still here.

 _Can you hear me?_

"Of course we can!" Auntie Mabel says.

"As always," says Saul.

I'm shoved to the front of the line. The lady sitting there takes my wrist and sticks a needle in my finger, making it bleed.

"Ouch!" I remember she did this last year as well.

"Next," she says, after pressing my finger to a piece of paper. I stumble off, and am carried by the stream of girls into the section marked with a big 13, which Abcde spotted first and read.

I stand quietly, glancing briefly at some of the other girls to see if Ali would talk about any of them.

"What's around you?" asks Paul.

 _A lot of people. A lot of girls, a lot of girls that are my age. The one right next to me has pale skin and blonde hair like Ali. The one behind me has darker skin and dark hair like me. Nobody has a braid like me though. I like my braid. Mom twisted my hair all together so it's not down anymore._

"Interesting."

Suddenly, the District's attention is pulled as the clown taps the microphone. "Ahem! Attention everyone!"

The place is silent.

"Welcome, one and all, to the District 12 reaping for the 42nd annual Hunger Games!"

I don't mind the circus. The clown this year is all decked up in green. She has green hair that is big and curly and looks like a beehive, and eyes that are bright green like lasers. She wears a dark green dress that is poofy and makes her look fat. Her name is Marguerite, and she is very green. She has a funny accent.

"She sounds so funny!" says Ali.

"She's certainly loud," complains Abcde.

"I like her," says Auntie Mabel. Her hearing is going a little, so she sometimes needs people to speak up.

There's a video on the screen.

"What's happening?" asks Saul.

 _They're playing a video. Right now there are images of a lot of smoke and explosions. I don't like that._

The video ends and fades to black and Marguerite smiles. "Now, we select our tributes." Tributes are the audience members selected to take part in the circus. She goes over to a bowl full of names and picks one.

"Monterey Kaminska!" she says.

Ali gasps. "That's you!"

 _What do I do?!_

"Maybe just wait?" Abcde says. "I don't know."

Some men in white come over to me. Together, they escort me to the stage. I don't even have to walk. They shove me forward and I trip a little bit. I guess they're testing to see if I could make a good balancing act. I walk up the stairs to join the clown. Everyone looks so small from up here.

Marguerite's already over picking another name.

"Aaron Pithland!"

A boy comes out from the section that Abcde observes is marked with a big 14. He's only a year older than me. He looks like a void where all the color's been sucked away, with dull hair and even duller eyes. He looks a little bit like a zombie. He'll make a good circus act. The men in white don't escort him like they did for me.

"Good! Now shake hands you two!"

He puts out a hand, looking stiff and very tired. I take his hand lightly and he shakes our hands up and down before Marguerite puts a hand on my shoulder and his and escorts us back to the big building behind us.

.

Mom and Dad come in together.

Mom is sobbing out loud, and she wraps her arms around me and squeezes. "Oh, Monterey! I'm so sorry!"

"It's alright." The response has been programmed into me like a robot.

"My child! My Monterey! Not my baby!" she sobs loudly. I don't really know what she's saying, but she seems upset.

"Don't worry. I can be ringmaster material. My friends will be there to help me."

That only causes Mom to sob louder. I guess she really doesn't like my friends.

Dad wraps his arms around me and squeezes while Mom blows her nose. "Oh Monterey," he says quietly. He repeats it a couple of times.

"It's alright," I say. "I can do it."

Mom bursts back into sobs. Dad squeezes me harder. I think he's trying to choke me. Or maybe this is a circus thing. I'm not sure.

"You have to try and come home!" sobs Mom.

"Of course I will."

She sobs louder. I sigh a bit. The men in white come in again, and Dad puts an arm around Mom.

"We love you so much Monterey!" Mom sobs. "We haven't been there, we've been out working for so long! But we love you so much!"

"We love you Monterey," says Dad.

I nod, though I don't know what they're saying. "Alright. I'll see you around then."

They leave together, Mom screaming.

Then, the clown comes to get us, and Aaron and I are lead onto the circus train, ready to start polishing up our acts for the big show.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: …Holy shit I have no idea what I just wrote. I started typing and just went with it. Haha, I bet you guys are being like "wtf" right now because I certainly am and I'm the author XD**_

 _ **Anyways, sorry it's been a while! I got sick and then I lost all motivation and then, thanks to my friends Jess and Legend, I got it back. Thank you Jess and Legend, and Dreamer too, for listening to me on Monday because I was kind of a mess.**_

 _ **The final tribute list has officially been solidified! Thank you everyone for your tributes! I can't wait to write with them all more as we go to chariot rides next chapter!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Rate the eight, in order from favorite to least so far! (I plan to ask this question again toward the end of the story to see how things changed! :3) In case you forget, here they all are again: Whimsy (D1), Tempest (D4), Torque (D5), Wyatt (D6), Trekker (D8), Beo (D9), Lindsay (D10), Monterey (D12).**_


	6. The Clown and The Zombie

~Monterey, D12F~

The train we're on is much nicer than most circus trains. It doesn't even smell like dung. I was sure it would smell like dung!

The clown plods around the train, her freaky green lips smiling at us.

"You are just going to love the Capitol!" she says.

"What does the train look like?" asks Paul.

"It's actually very nice," I tell him. "The walls are light blue and there are lots of frills everywhere. The couch is red and it looks just as comfy as it feels. There's a table that's-"

"What are you talking about, dear?" interrupts the clown.

I ignore her. I was talking to Saul, it's very rude of her to interrupt.

"The table here is glossy and shiny and smooth. It's made out of wood. Maybe… Oak. Or elm."

"Mahogany, actually," says the clown, wrinkling her nose. I ignore her.

"How about the boy from your District?" asks Saul.

"Oh, yes," I say, glancing at the boy, who fidgets with his hands in his lap. "Well, he looks a bit like a zombie. A _lot_ like a zombie, actually. He's overwhelmingly dull. He looks dead. He has dull hair and pale skin and dull eyes."

"Tell him about the clown!" yells Ali, "She's hilarious!"

"Tone it down a bit, Ali," I say.

"The clown?" asks Saul.

"Oh yes," I say. "The clown is wearing green. She has green hair and-"

"What did you just call me!?" screeches the clown. I ignore her. Really, she has terrible manners, interrupting like that.

"As I was saying, the clown has green hair and green eyes and green lips."

"How incredibly interesting," says Saul thoughtfully.

"Give the clown a turn to talk now, dear," says Auntie Mabel.

"Oh, alright," I complain, before I turn to the clown. "You were saying?"

"Who in the world are you talking to!?" she bellows.

I sigh. "I'm talking to my friends. Saul is too polite to say so, but he wishes you wouldn't interrupt me when I'm describing things. That is quite insensitive of you, the man is _blind_."

"What are you talking about?!"

"Paul. He's 20. Can't you see him?"

"Why I never-"

"The others are here as well," I say.

The clown is breathing heavy, she looks like she's going to lose her composure.

"Oh, please calm down, dear," Auntie Mabel tells her.

"Take a seat," says Ali.

"A-squared plus b-squared equals c-squared," says Abcde.

"They're very concerned about you," I inform the clown.

Marguerite screeches. "Crazy! Insane! You're _crazy_!" She stomps her foot.

"She seems angry," says Auntie Mabel, sounding sad.

"Hey, lay off her," says the zombie. "Leave her be."

"She's _insane_!"

"Leave her!" insists the zombie.

The clown wrinkles her nose in frustration and then stomps off into another car with a huff.

The zombie and I sit in silence for a while. I feel him glancing up at me for a while. I glance up at him and try to find something to say.

"So, what's your act?" I ask the zombie.

"My what?"

"Your act. You know, in the circus."

"Oh. Uh… What's yours?"

I consider. "I dunno. I think that's what we'll be figuring out when we train and such. I'm not a good tightrope walker, though. Maybe I can train lions or tigers or seals, or ride elephants, or… Well, the possibilities are endless!"

He nods a bit. "Yeah. I guess I need to figure out mine too."

"Maybe we'll learn how to juggle. Or ride a unicycle. Oh, this is so exciting!"

"Don't let them make you a clown, though!" squeaks Ali. "You're a pretty girl! Much too pretty to be a clown!"

I giggle. "Thanks Ali."

The zombie looks up. "What did she say? I'm… Selectively deaf."

"She said I'm too pretty to be a clown. I like feeling pretty most of the time, though I don't get told by anyone but Ali and sometimes Auntie Mabel."

"Ah…" The conversation fizzles off into silence.

"Tell the zombie we're glad to meet him," says Auntie Mabel, "And we're so sorry about his deafness."

"My friends all say they're glad to meet you and are sorry about your deafness."

"Oh. It's… Nice to meet you too."

I smile at him. It's really a shame, him being deaf. But I'll do my best for him.

We sit in more silence for a while. "I'm gonna be the ringmaster," I say. "We haven't had one for a while, but I want to be the ringmaster."

The zombie glances at me. "That's… Very optimistic," he says.

"I'm going to be the Ringmaster of the Hunger Games!" I say cheerfully. My friends all agree quickly, and Saul claps his hands. The zombie's shoulders shrug up and down.

We don't talk for another while. Ali begins talking about some of the girls that we saw while we were at the reaping, but eventually gives up trying to fill the silence. The colors fly by, and I quietly describe to Saul what I see. "There are trees going by real fast, it's all green and brown and the sky is blue and there are a few clouds." I close my eyes and doze off for a while.

I look up when the clown comes back.

"Your mentor will be right out to see you," she says. "Come now, it's time to watch the reapings."

The zombie and I stand up and the clown leads us to another car of the train, where a man is sitting across the couch and the TV is lit up.

"When I was a little girl, we didn't have TVs," says Auntie Mabel nostalgically.

"What's on the TV?" asks Saul.

"It's two other clowns," I say. "One of them is orange and the other one is green, but darker than our clown. And he's wearing a midnight blue suit."

"Be quiet, Polymestor is talking!" screeches the clown.

"The reapings begin in District 1," observes Abcde.

District 1 must love the circus because people from there are always jumping to volunteer. They always seem to produce top-notch performers, and lots of ringmasters.

They have a girl, Whimsy, that's blonde and comes up on the stage. Her name definitely fits the occasion! She's wearing a poofy pink dress and smiling widely. She could be a ribbon twirler, dancing all around up on the stage.

The boy, Almandine, volunteers from the 18 section. He has curly hair and dark eyes. He's short and looks like he could be flexible, possibly a contortionist.

District 2 is another District that loves the circus. The girl from there, Bellona, volunteers. She has dark brown hair in a ponytail, and looks fierce enough to train tigers!

The boy from 2, Ezekiel, also volunteers. He has tan skin, coppery hair, and bright, startlingly blue eyes. He could possibly juggle chainsaws. I really want to see him juggle chainsaws.

From District 3, a girl named Sondra is reaped. She has silky gray hair and fair skin.

"She's so pretty!" says Ali.

Sondra is crying when she goes to the stage. I guess she's afraid of clowns, but she could be mysterious woman that trains a snake with a flute!

The boy from District 3, Winchester, has dirty blond hair and dark eyes. He's very strong and could be a strongman, lifting amazing amounts of weight with ease!

The first girl from District 4, Tempest, volunteers. She seems very excited for the circus. I think she could be one of those people you shoot out of a cannon and she lands in a little pool of water.

The boy from there, Branden, has wavy brown hair and green eyes.

"He's attractive," says Ali. He is… I guess.

Anyways, he could be one of those guys that rides motorcycles around those circular cages and goes upside down and everything!

District 5 has Static, a girl that could train animals to jump through hoops of fire! Her hair looks like fire! She holds onto another girl's arm, and when she's on the stage she starts crying. I don't understand why everyone's afraid of clowns. They're unpleasant, sure, but not really _scary_.

The boy, Carlton, has brown hair and freckles and wears glasses, and would look very pretty sitting on an elephant.

From District 6, there's Isa, who insists on being the next ringmaster. I think she'd make a fine trapeze artist. She has tan skin and silky black hair.

The boy, Wyatt, has caramel skin and dark hair, and he walks slowly to the stage. He could be a good tightrope walker, I think.

The District 7 girl's name is named Sequoia. She has fair skin, dark hair, and brown eyes. She moves to the stage quickly, either out of excitement or nerves, or both! She's really strong and powerful, she could be a sword swallower!

The boy from there is named Tomer, and his eyes are two different colors! Wow! He looks shocked but goes up on the stage. He could be a really good flag twirler.

The girl from District 8, Abigail, is my age, 13. She has red hair and lots of freckles, her skin peeling with sunburns and dirty. She seems to be afraid of clowns, too, because she's crying. She looks like she'd be good at juggling while riding a unicycle!

The boy, Trekker, has tan skin, brown hair, and sparkly teal eyes. He could probably be a quick-change artist!

The girl from District 9, Linnea, has light brown hair and brown eyes.

"Oo!" says Ali. "She's pretty enough to do silks!" I agree. She looks afraid, though, panicked. I guess she hates clowns.

The boy, Beowulf, has dark hair, brown eyes, and distinct canine teeth as he smiles and laughs. I guess he really _likes_ the circus. I can see him being a charming dark magician.

The 10 girl, Lindsay, has dark skin and black hair, and brown eyes. She is very shy and quiet, and looks like she's gentle enough to be a seal trainer that teaches them to hold the balls on their noses.

The boy, Hartwin, is very strong, but also very intimidating. He looks like he would be a good fire-breather!

The girl from District 11 is named Amaryllis. She has short, dark hair, dark skin, and gentle, pretty eyes. She's very sad. She sobs and cries when she's reaped, so she must be very scared of the clowns. She's pretty enough to be a ballerina!

The boy's name is Elias. He has light brown skin and hair, and he's very skinny. He could be an amazing escape artist!

I see me up there, being helped to the stage by the escorts in white and stumbing a bit. And Aaron, of course, is the human zombie!

And then, when it's all said and done, that leaves me to be the ringmaster.

I can see it now... Me and all my friends announcing the circus! It's amazing, spectacular, wonderful! I can see it now right in front of me. The music, the chaos, the amazing acts, the pretty girls… And, of course, the clowns!

"Get some sleep now, when you wake we'll be arriving," says the clown. Aaron and I each get a tiny room with a bed on the train.

I lay awake and stare at the ceiling, too excited about the circus to sleep.

"Abcde," I say, "Will you tell me a story about the circus?

"Of course!" says Abcde, her eyes lighting up. She clears her throat. "Here we go…

 _Once, there was a girl named Monterey. She was young and beautiful. She had a lot of friends, that liked her a lot and spent lots of time at her and they did things together and had fun._

 _Monterey loved the circus, and she saw it with her friends all the time when she was a little girl. She loved the acts, and soon she was chosen to participate in the circus as well, if she could find an act to perform with. Monterey was so excited! She immediately started to look at all the acts._

 _First, Monterey tried to dance with Whimsy and her ribbons._

" _It's easy!" said Whimsy, waving her ribbons around and making all kinds of loops and patterns. Monterey took the ribbons and started to wave them, but they got tangled in knots!_

" _Oh dear," said Whimsy._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be a ribbon dancer._

 _Then, Monterey tried to be a contortionist with Alma. However, Monterey couldn't put her legs over her head._

" _It's easy!" said Alma, smiling from under his feet._

 _Monterey struggled some more, but she wasn't meant to be a contortionist._

 _After that, Monterey went to train tigers with Bellona._

" _This is my nicest tiger," said Bellona. "Try to get him to sit, it's easy!"_

" _Sit," said Monterey. The tiger looked at her for a second, and then tried to eat her for a snack!_

 _Monterey wasn't meant to train tigers._

 _Then, Monterey went to Ezekiel, who was juggling five chainsaws!_

" _Here, take a chainsaw and throw it!" said Ezekiel, "It's easy!"_

 _Monterey tried and tried, but she couldn't lift the chainsaw, let alone juggle them!_

 _Monterey wasn't meant to juggle chainsaws._

 _Monterey went to Sondra next, and watched her play her flute as the snake wiggled and was calmed._

" _Try playing my flute," said Sondra, "It's easy!"_

 _Monterey took the wooden flute and put it to her lips, but the snake hissed in distaste. She tried to make a note but it only squeaked._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to play the flute and train snakes._

 _Next, Monterey went to Winchester, who was lifting weights._

" _Why don't you try lifting something?" said Winchester, "It's easy!"_

 _Monterey went over to the smallest weight in the room. She strained and strained, but she just couldn't lift it. Monterey wasn't meant to be a strongman._

 _Monterey then went over to Tempest to see if she could be shot out of a cannon._

" _You just have to land on the target!" said Tempest. "It's easy!"_

 _Monterey got in the cannon, but the trajectory was off so she put up her parachute and hit the ground a mile away from the pool._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be shot out of a cannon._

 _Then, she went to Branden. Branden was riding his motorcycle._

" _Go ahead," he said, "Ride my motorcycle and go upside down! It's easy!"_

 _Monterey struggled to balance on the motorcycle and crashed into the wall._

 _Monterey was not meant to ride motorcycles in circular cages._

 _Next, Monterey went to Static. Static showed Monterey how to light the hoops on fire, but Monterey set her hair on fire instead! Luckily, Static put her out before it got too close to her head though._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be anywhere near fire._

 _After that, Monterey went to Carlton to see if he could teach her to ride an elephant._

" _You just have to climb on," said Carl, "It's easy!"_

 _Monterey tried to climb up on the elephant, but she was much too short. The elephant wouldn't kneel for her as much as she begged it to._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to ride elephants._

 _Then, Monterey went to Isa to learn how to be a trapeze artist._

 _Isa swung back and forth and did somersaults in the air! Monterey was amazed. Isa smiled and let her hold onto the swing._

" _Now you try!" she said. "It's easy!"_

 _Monterey held onto the trapeze, but her arms wobbled and her grip slipped. Monterey fell off the swing and hit the ground. She groaned._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be a trapeze artist._

 _Then, Wyatt helped Monterey walk on the tightrope. He walked on the rope above a pit of sharks! Monterey was amazed._

" _Take a step!" said Wyatt. "It's easy!"_

 _She tried to take a step, but wobbled and fell, just barely clutching the rope so she didn't fall to the sharks! Wyatt quickly scurried across the rope and helped her up. She was glad to feel solid ground._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be a tightrope walker._

 _Sequoia then took Monterey's hand._

" _Here, try to swallow a sword! It's easy!" Sequoia tilted her head and put a sword down her throat. Monterey watched, amazed. Sequoia put the sword in Monterey's hand, and she opened her mouth. Monterey put the sword in her mouth, but the tip hit her tongue and she quickly decided not to do that._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be a sword swallower._

 _Monterey then went with Tomer. Tomer had really cool and interesting eyes that smiled at her as he picked up some flags. He twirled the flags around and around and Monterey watched._

" _Twirl the flags around!" he said, grinning._

 _Monterey took the flags and tried to throw one, but she couldn't catch it. She tried to twirl them both, but they got tangled._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be a flag twirler._

 _After that, Abigail took Monterey's hand, her hair flowing behind her like fire. She got up on the unicycle and started to ride around in circles, juggling colorful balls and throwing them up in the air. Monterey watched, amazed._

" _Here, try riding the unicycle!" said Abigail._

 _Monterey tried and tried, but she kept on toppling over! She tried to juggle but the balls kept plopping to the ground. Plop! Plop! Plop!_

 _Monterey wasn't meant to juggle or ride a unicycle._

 _Next, Monterey went to Trekker, the quick-change master. Trekker was amazing!_

 _One second he was wearing a red T-shirt and jeans, the next he was wearing a suit and an orange tie! Next, he was wearing a sparkly yellow jumpsuit, next a green dress! After that, a blue jumper, and afterwards, a purple sweater-vest outfit with a lavender shirt underneath and dress pants. He was so impressive!_

" _It's easy," said Trekker, "You just have to change fast!"_

 _He put up the cover, but when he unveiled her, Monterey hadn't even undone her pants the whole way!_

 _Monterey was not meant to be a quick-change artist._

 _After that, Linnea came over and took Monterey's hand. She showed Monterey how to do silks. The ribbon was velvety and lavender. Linnea's outfit was deep purple with silver sparkles. She looked so graceful, sliding down the ribbon and twirling around it._

" _Why don't we try dancing together? It's easy!" said Linnea. Monterey tried to climb the ribbon, but couldn't get a good handle. She tried to slide down the ribbon, but she just got a brush burn._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be a ribbon dancer._

 _Next, Beowulf took Monterey's hands. He was very charming and smiled at her._

" _Why don't you try to do some magic?" he asked, pulling a rabbit out of his hat. "Or would you like to pick a card?" He pulled out a deck and started shuffling the cards. The cards suddenly floated up into the air! Monterey was in awe._

 _Monterey took the deck and tried to make the cards fly, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she just couldn't. She threw the cards up, but they all fell to the ground. She tried to summon a rabbit out of her hat, but he just wouldn't come out._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be a magician._

 _Next, Monterey went with Lindsay. Lindsay patted her seal on the head, and the seal barked happily._

" _Ar ar ar!" said the seal. Monterey giggled and clapped as the seal balanced a ball on his nose._

" _Here, try to get him to come to you!" said Lindsay, handing Monterey a seal treat. "It's easy!"_

" _Alright," said Monterey. She took the treat and tried to beckon the seal over, but he wouldn't budge._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be a seal trainer._

 _Next, Monterey went with Hartwin. Hartwin put a torch to his mouth and breathed an amazing stream of fire! Monterey beamed and wanted to try._

" _Maybe you shouldn't!" said Static, pawing at Monterey's singed, now-short hair. Monterey didn't mind that her hair was now short. She liked it. She thought it made her look boyish, which she liked._

" _Maybe not," said Hartwin._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be a fire-breather._

 _Next, Monterey went off with Amaryllis. She stood on her toes in her pink tutu and spun around very beautifully._

 _Monterey tried to stand on her toes, but she couldn't. Also, she didn't really like the tutu. It didn't make her feel very happy at the time. She would've rather felt boyish._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be a dancer._

 _Next, Elias took Monterey's hand. "Let me show you to escape from a straightjacket!"_

" _Okay!" said Monterey._

 _Elias put the jacket on and struggled for a bit before he was suddenly free!_

 _He put the jacket on Monterey and locked it up._

" _It's easy!" he said._

 _Monterey struggled and struggled but she couldn't get out. She tried and tried, but she couldn't budge._

 _Monterey wasn't meant to be an escape artist._

 _Next, Monterey went with Aaron. Aaron was a literal zombie!_

" _Let me eat your brains!" said the zombie, "Then we can be zombies together!"_

 _But Monterey didn't want her brains to be eaten._

 _So she decided she wasn't meant to be a zombie._

 _So, Monterey had tried and tried, but she just couldn't find where she fit. She didn't fit with any of the other acts! What would she do?_

 _Monterey curled up into a ball and started to cry. She had no place where she fit in. That made Monterey feel very lost and very sad._

" _Monterey!" said Whimsy, and Monterey looked up, the tears still streaming down her face._

" _What's wrong?" asked Ezekiel._

" _I don't fit into the circus!" cried Monterey. "There's nowhere I belong! I'll never be successful!"_

" _Sure, you didn't fit," said Sondra._

" _But that doesn't mean you're not important!" said Tempest._

" _You didn't fit with_ us _," said Static._

" _But surely you have a place somewhere!" said Isa._

" _We're all unique," offered Tomer._

" _And so are you!" Trekker said._

" _In fact, I think we have a place for you," said Beo._

" _A very special place!" Hartwin said._

" _You know the circus better than everyone," said Elias._

" _So it'd only make sense for you to be the bigtop announcer," finished the zombie._

 _Together, they all changed Monterey into a nice suit and a red tie, chattering excitedly. They gave her a cane to have and put a top hat on her head. They cut her hair like a boy's and smoothed the bangs neatly across her forehead. They put a microphone in her hand and put her up on a platform. Monterey felt handsome, and happy, and up on the podium she could see everything._

" _Welcome to the circus!" Monterey's voice boomed through the whole room. "We have an amazing show planned for you!"_

 _Monterey was raised on the platform, the other tributes looking up at her with admiration as she announced each of their acts._

 _Monterey found where she belonged. A smile pushed across her face. She had finally found her home._

 _Monterey Kaminiska was and is and forever will be the Ringmaster._

"The ringmaster," I repeat sleepily, rolling over and bringing the blankets close to my face. I close my eyes, and with that thought drift off to sleep.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Hey! Hope you liked this chapter and the look at all the tributes!**_

 _ **!IMPORTANT NOTE! Carlton/Torque is NOT a boy, nor do they use he/him pronouns. Monterey assumed this about them and mistakenly used the wrong pronouns. Later they will assert their correct pronouns, but just a reminder that Torque isn't a boy but Monterey wouldn't know that at this point.**_

 _ **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Still keeping track of points, reviews are much appreciated!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Which tributes/acts were your favorites in this chapter?**_

 _ **Hope you liked the circus and Monterey's POV!~**_

 _ **See you next time!**_


	7. Colorful Capitolites and Careers

~Tempest, D4F~

I can't say I don't like being milled over by my prep team. I love being from District 4, because they can't stop talking about how beautiful I am.

"I say, the prettiest girls come from Four," says one of them, with crazy turquoise hair and lipstick, clashing with a vomit-colored aura. . "They have beautiful tan skin and hair, and the prettiest eyes, oh, my dear!" She takes my hair in her hands and bounces it to feel the wavy texture.

"They're not skinny like the low-life from the outer Districts," remarks the only guy of the bunch, with orange hair and yellow eyes, which clash horribly with his bright greenish brown aura. "And they're not overrated like those bells from District 1. No, this one's got plenty of muscle in all the right places!"

"They're not manly like some of the girls from District 2," remarks another, with lavender hair and baby blue eyes, and an ugly brown aura.

"I don't see what's wrong with looking masculine," I remark as they spin me around to tease and trim my hair. "Honestly, beauty standards forced on women are ridiculous. Why should anyone care what kind of hair you have?"

My prep team freezes, and then bursts out laughing. I snarl a bit but don't do more than that. The Isidore inside of my head advises me against it. It's usually better to listen to his advice than anyone else's. Lee'd say, "BEAT UP THAT BITCH!" which is out of the question. Rafferty would agree with Lee, as he always does, and say something like "Yeah, she deserves it!" Tiller would probably tsk and shake his head but not do anything to _stop_ me.

I just ignore the little gray and yellow and periwinkle wisps in my mind telling me what to do and listen to the calm blue wisp that says "Just let it go." I watch as they put shiny green polish on my toes and fake nails over my real ones.

"Ahem, these will come off before training, correct?" I ask, making a claw with one of my hands and pretending I'm a very menacing claw machine, ready to pick up a stuffed animal at any second, which just amuses me.

"I suppose if you must."

"I need short nails so I can pick up weapons without feeling like a human claw machine." I snicker to myself. "There's also another reason having short nails is better." I wink, causing my prep team to simply freak the fuck out. I laugh to myself as they go back to work, saying things like "You little mink!" and the like. I can't stop laughing though. My friends and brother in my head appreciated that though. Isidore is shaking his head, but he's still laughing. Rafferty is laughing because the others are, but he doesn't get it. I don't think he's ever touched a pussy in his life. I don't think he's even considered it.

However, the room is next to silent as my prep team finishes their work. Nobody knows what to say to break the awkward silence. _Good_ , I think, _I like it that way_. After all, I like to cause trouble.

My main stylist comes in, breaking the silence. He's a young man, much younger than I expected. He has neatly-combed blue hair and bright green eyes. His aura matches, a light sky blue that merges into a deep royal purple at the bottom. Finally, someone I can actually look at without getting a headache.

"You got them to shut up," he says, eyebrows raised at me.

"What, like it's hard?" I fire back.

"You're spirited. And also sharp. I think we might have a Victor here!"

My prep team gasps like he's said something totally crazy. I put a hand on my hip, not at all embarrassed to be stark naked in front of them. "What, you have no faith in me!?"

"He's never predicted a Victor so soon before!" gasps Ugly Brown.

"You really think so!?" asks Vomit.

"You haven't even talked to her more than five words!" says Clashy Green-Brown.

"Hush, I'm aware. I see the spirit in her. She has potential like none other I've seen before in my years of betting."

"What's going on, why's this guy's word so important?" I ask. I don't get it, honestly.

"Aquarius was one of the top Games betters!" gushes Vomit. "It seemed he was never wrong!"

"I thought stylists couldn't bet?" I ask.

"We can't, dear. Although we should be able to." He snarls.

"What made you give it up? Surely being a top-notch better pays much better than being a stylist."

"I got into a pretty bad fight last year after I won against a guy so adamantly betting for that Four boy. I decided to duck out of it this year to prevent injury." He twitches a sleek white robotic hand and my stomach drops. Games betting must get pretty serious. "So, I decided why not chase my dream in the meantime? I can get back to the betting next year."

"Or you could stay with us!" says Clashy Green-Brown.

"Possibly." Aquarius gives me a look that says, _Ugh._ I snicker. "Well, let's see what we have here, then. After all, I pegged you for a Victor, and I very rarely take back my word. You look to be in good shape. Your volunteering was big and bold. You look to be quite strong and fiery, which is always good. But rational."

"I am the golden child," I tell him. "I didn't volunteer to lose."

"Of course you didn't. I like it. You're not going to be pushed around."

"Why would I come here to be pushed around?"

"A good question. You've got fight in you, so I'll stop asking dumb questions. I hope that you and I can be friends by the end of this. Because you're going to have lots of media covering you as a Victor, and you'll have to look your best."

"I hope so too. Because the others hurt my eyes."

He laughs as the others quickly look back down to their work. "You'd think that your prep team would be more tastefully dressed, wouldn't you? I would as well."

I snort. He talks as if he's not a Capitolite. He acts like he isn't one, too. I mean, it's refreshing after being groomed and talked at by three airheads.

I remember just then that people don't know about my synesthesia. You see, it's such a common part of my life I forget that not everyone sees colors like I do. And I don't look special or anything. I decide not to say anything quite yet, as the conversation topic changes to my dress. I expect the worst: a literal mermaid costume with a tail where I can't walk and nothing but two measly seashells for protection up top. I'm pleasantly surprised.

Looking at Aquarius, I could put together easily that he was the designer. The dress is a mellow, almost metallic light blue, with a tight, satiny bodice and a skirt that swirls out and is patterned like fish scales. I feel like a glorified angelfish when they zip it up. They are making a lot of last-minute adjustments as I just sit still and suck in air to be thinner as they zip it up. I relax and find the dress to be very itchy and tight, but pretty. At least it's not suffocatingly tight.

I sit still as they put my hair up in a high ponytail and add some extensions to make it look fuller than is humanly possible. I just sit still and let them do what they want. I sit still as they do my make-up, smiling when they say for blush and trying not to lick at the red glossy stuff they put on my lips.

"So, what did you say that made them shut up?" Aquarius asks, amused, as he messes with my hair.

"It was… not very appropriate," I laugh, and the others make noises of dissatisfaction.

Aquarius lets go of my hair to laugh and practically doubles over he's laughing so hard. "Ah! Of course!"

I grin a bit, though it still feels like I should lick the sticky gloss off my lips. Aquarius goes over to a cabinet and starts searching through.

"What are you doing Sir?!" asks Vomit.

"I'm looking for a last touch," he says, in thought, opening some drawers. I sit patiently and watch as he looks through a bunch of items, before finally pulling out a golden hairpiece that looks a tiara made out of leaves. "Tiaras are usually reserved for 1, and laurels for 2, but we're gonna change that," he says thoughtfully. "This can be your practice for when President Snow crowns you the Victor." I laugh but hold my head up high as he fixes the piece on my head. "You say you're the golden child, it's your job to prove it."

"Yes sir." I smile at him and he returns it.

"Your District partner and escort will be waiting for you," Aquarius says, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me away from my prep team and back out to the main room.

My eyes glaze right over Branden and Evianna and go straight to the horses that are going to pull our chariot. I run over to the horse, pleased by how my dress flows after me rather than restricting me. The creature is absolutely _magnificent_. Its power is awesome, and it's so gentle even though it could easily kill other creatures if it so desired. I stare up at the horse in awe, slowly reaching up a hand to touch the horse's snout, rubbing it lightly. What an amazing thing. What a spectacular creature. I've always wanted to run free like a stallion. I've always wanted to work with creatures like these.

The horse is gentle, and calmly puffs air out of his nose. I nuzzle his snout with the side of my face gently.

"Amazing, aren't they?"

I look up and see my District partner there, his red and orange aura still unsettling me.

"Yeah. I love these animals. I think they're… Beautiful."

He has a calm smile on his face as he rubs the horse's ear. "I think so, too."

I glance at his outfit. He has a crown of seashells on his head, half-buried under his waves of brown hair. He wears a tunic of different shades of blue and green, and when he moves looks like waves. He has gladiator sandals that go halfway up his shins. It's actually pretty tasteful as well.

"This is the opportunity of a lifetime. I'm glad I get to spend it with someone like you." I glance over to figure out if he's actually serious. He cracks me a smile and I return it, though I refuse to let my guard down.

"Don't be getting all gross with me," I say. "We both have to kill to get home and one of us is gonna be dead in a couple weeks. And I'll be damned if it's me."

He laughs. "You're right."

I look at the horse again. I want to give it lots of kisses and be cute and disgusting, but I know that'd probably hurt my image.

"Time to get in!" Eviana says, and I realize that I totally forgot to see what everyone else is wearing. Branden climbs up into the chariot and holds a hand down to me.

"Need help?"

"Of course not," I say, nudging his hand out of the way and crawling up myself. In front of us, the Three boy has been put in a tight silver jumpsuit, it looks, trying to accentuate his muscles considering very few District 3 kids are built quite like he is. His blondish brown hair is just as messy as it was when he was reaped. That's all I can tell from behind. He has a soft pink aura swirled with mellow green, which is pretty interesting for someone built like that.

The girl appears to be the same way, to accentuate her curves. Her black hair is silky and smooth, and I bet she's caked in make-up. Her aura is a very deep, dark red combining with deep dark navy. To me, this is less surprising. It oozes maturity and sensuality.

I look in front of them, trying to get a glimpse at the 2 tributes to make out their auras better than I could on the television, but can't see anything beyond the three pair. I hear loud chattering in the chariot behind us, but don't make out the words. It seems the girl's doing much of the talking. I watch as the door opens and the District 1 chariot exits. Both of their tributes are dressed in sequins and big feathery headpieces, as is the norm for District 1. Two's chariot follows, then Three's, and then we're on our way.

"Smile big and stand proud," Branden says, patting me on the shoulder. "Let's remind our District that they're definitely going to have a Victor this year."

I nod. _And that Victor will be me._

We go out into the cheering crowd. At first, it's amazing. There are people everywhere, screaming and waving. I hear people from all over shouting my name, and Branden's. As I look at the crowd, though, the colors are all bursting in front of my eyes. The clashing auras with the colors of the crowd overwhelm my eyes and make my head pound. I close my eyes, taking in a breath and smiling as I keep my head up. I hear shouting that makes my ears ring it's so loud. I try to take it all in, but everytime I open my eyes they're distracted and my head pounds. I feel nothing but dizziness when the chariot slows to a stop in front of the President.

President Snow welcomes everyone to this wonderful event. His aura is a sickly kind of mustard yellow fading into a bright blood red. I haven't liked it from the moment I saw it on the screen. In real life, it's just as unsettling. He stands in front of everyone and makes his typical speech, but the words blend together. I don't notice I'm leaning to the side until I bump into Branden by mistake. He helps me up again, though. I give him a smile of thanks as the chariots start to race off again. The way back is even worse than the way to. Clashing colors, of every different vibrancy and hue attack my eyes. My head pounds and I feel overwhelmed and try to keep a good smile on. I can't notice anything.

When we finally reach the main room again, my ears are ringing and my head is pounding. I still feel dizzy. I can't let anyone see the weakness, though, no matter how light-headed I am. My vision starts to tunnel as I start to dismount my chariot, though, and soon I topple over the side before I know what's happening, and everything goes black.

When I open my eyes, I see the calmest aura I've ever seen before in my whole life. It looks exactly like the sunrise on a normal District 4 day. I realize that I'd collapsed into someone else's arms. I see a face looking down on me, concerned. Looking at his aura, I feel like I've met him before a million different times in a million different lives.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks. I suddenly feel embarrassed, and stand up, brushing myself off.

"Of course. I'm fine."

"Tempest, right? I'm Ezekiel, but people usually call me Ezie. I'm from District 2."

"You came all the way from the 2 chariot to ours?" I ask, my eyebrow raising.

"I was going to talk to the others right away, but I noticed you seemed kind of wobbly."

I feel a hot blush spread across my face. I probably looked like an idiot, passing out at chariots!

"Don't worry, you weren't even out for five minutes," he says. "What happened?"

"I… didn't drink enough, I guess," I lie. I can't go around telling everyone about my synesthesia. It's a secret strength of mine, it helps me judge people. The colors are usually pretty accurate. I stop looking at his gentle, soft aura and get a load of his features. He has coppery hair and skin that's a dark caramel color. His eyes are luminescent blue. His outfit is the typical 2: gladiator-esque with lots of gold.

"I know, right, they couldn't have even given us snack breaks when they were dolling us up!? What's up with that?!" I laugh a bit, my mood raised. "C'mon, let's go find the others."

I follow him to where the other Careers stand in a cluster. I wish I could keep staring at his aura, though, it's so calm and soothing to the eyes instead of the bright vibrancy of the Careers.

"Oh, there you are!" says the girl from 1, waving. Her aura is a bright orange with pricks of yellow. Her District partner beside her has a magenta aura with accents of dark purple.

"Are you alright?" asks Branden, looking concerned.

"Yeah," I say, embarrassed again.

"Tempest and I are gonna start a petition for snack breaks during styling time!" Ezie says, giving them all a smile. "How else are we gonna be properly fed and hydrated before the big ride!?" his light attitude causes everyone else to brush over the problem, which is a relief. Branden doesn't seem convinced, though.

"I'd sign the _shit_ out of that!" Whimsy says, giggling a bit, and her District partner Alma nods in agreement. Bellona from 2 has been silent this whole time. Her aura is a deep maroon color fading a warm chestnut brown, very sophisticated.

"Well, if you didn't know or forgot, I'm Whimsy! That's Alma, and Bellona, and Ezekiel, and Tempest, and Branden! Look at this Career pack! This is so exciting!"

"I volunteered to fight," Bellona says, her face not cracking a smile. "Fight and win. I hope you all did as well."

"Definitely," I say, and the others nod.

"So, do you think any of the outer District tributes will approach us?" Alma asks, giving the others a glance.

"How about that kid from 9? He just started cackling when he was reaped. He might try his luck," Branden says, causing me to shiver a bit. Beowulf, I remember his name, his aura is by far the most interesting of all that I've seen so far, but also the most unsettling. Purple that fades to black, which fades into a cascade of red. Sometimes I think I see flecks of silver when I blink. He chats with the boy from District 8, who is an 18-year-old but looks tiny compared to him. They decided to leave Beowulf shirtless, exposing red lines down his back and on his arms. I shudder again and turn back around.

"The kid from 3 may think he's super cool because he's built, which isn't the case," suggests Whimsy. Winchester is talking to the 5 tributes currently, I notice.

"Both Seven tributes are older, as well," Ezie observes, a playful smirk going across his face as he flings a side-glance at Bellona. "Seven tributes sometimes have a chance in the Careers. Or think they do, at least."

Bellona's face goes into a scowl as she sees them. "The District 7 tributes are _my_ kill," she says, tense. Nobody wants to ask about it, though, for fear of pushing her, so the subject is dropped. Ezie has a look in his eye like he might know why, though, possibly from a conversation on the train ride.

"Maybe that scary guy from 10," I say, "But a lot of times those ones go off on their own."

"True. So I guess none of them are going to brave coming over," I say.

"I thought maybe we could all say why we volunteered," Whimsy says. "I don't want to know about your whole backstory, of course, for fear that we'd be anything more than allies, but just a simple reason you're in it. So that when we all say _avenge me_ , the others will have a reason to do some avenging. I'll start. I volunteered because, well, because the girl that was supposed to was knocked up by her boyfriend, and you can't train very well when you're pregnant. From there, I want to win to bring honor to my District and my family, and myself!"

"Well, I'm volunteering for honor, and the money isn't a bad thing," Alma says. "My Dad's a trainer so he was a lot of help with everything."

Bellona speaks up. "I'm volunteering to show the world that I am not a coward. I want to make something for myself, and win the honor for my name. I put in the time and the effort, and I worked up from the very bottom. I'm ready."

"I volunteered for the honor," Ezie says, "It was really because of my Mom that I volunteered. That's all there is to it." He shrugs simply.

All eyes are on me now. "I volunteered to make a name for myself. My family is full of weak women that married for money and gave their voices away. I refuse to have the same fate as them."

Branden smiles, "Well-"

I'm interrupted by a tug on my dress. When I turn around, the least likely person is there. It's that little girl from 12, the one that's probably going to die first.

"Excuse me," she says, clearing her throat. I don't know if her dress was meant to be fashionable or what, but she looks like a lump of coal in that thing. "You look like the kind that can be shot of a cannon. Could you teach me?"

"Er…" I glance back at my allies, who all look stunned.

"Or what about being a contortionist?" she asks, skipping into the middle of the circle closer to Alma.

"Look kid, I'm not a-"

"How about twirling ribbons?!" she asks, almost treading on Whimsy's dress. Her aura is surprisingly bright for a starving girl from 12. It's a bright playful green, with streaks of orange and yellow. "Or riding a motorcycle around those circular cages!" She stares up at Branden with wide gray eyes before she goes to Ezie. "I can't wait until they bring out the chainsaws! How many of those can you juggle at once?! I bet a lot! Oh, and when will they bring out the tigers! I really want to see Bellona at work with them!"

The rest of us exchange a look, unsure what to do with this girl. She must have deluded herself into thinking that this isn't the Hunger Games or _something_.

"Oh, the zombie's calling me over! Oo, he's talking to Lindsay the seal trainer! I want to learn how to train seals! Bye!" she races off, her braid bouncing behind her.

"Well…" we're left in an awkward silence.

"What were you saying Branden?" We decide not to dwell on Monterey any longer until we can get some kind of story out of her.

"Er, right. Well, I'm naturally competitive, so this is kind of the ultimate competition, now isn't it? I mean, I did well in training, and I'm determined to get out with the victory. That's what it means to me."

"So we all have the same reasons, pretty much! Which is a great way we can fight for each other! If… The worst happened." Whimsy sighs. We all agree quickly, not wanting to think about it for any longer than we have to.

"Right."

"So, let's get a long night of good rest so we can be super _duper_ ready for training tomorrow!" Whimsy says.

Training tomorrow. I forgot. This is all going by so fast! I can't wait to show off my skills.

"Yeah!" we agree.

"Night everyone," Ezie says cooly. "See you all tomorrow."

We all go to elevator together. Whimsy and Alma board it first, not allowing room for others because their costumes are so big. We board the elevator after with the 2 tributes. I try not to stare at Ezie's aura, because he'll totally get the wrong idea and think I'm staring at him because I think he's _attractive_ or something. Which is _totally_ not true! Not at all! He's just as average as any other guy I know. Definitely.

The 2 tributes get off, leaving Branden and I alone.

"You look stunning in that getup, by the way,"

"Gold is my color," I say simply. We get out and go to our rooms.

"Good night, Tempest," he says.

"Night," I reply simply. I go into my room.

I get showered and dressed in PJs. Then, I crawl into bed and cover up, yawning sleepily.

When I close my eyes, sleep comes easily.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Hey! Sorry I haven't updated in a while! But, it's officially summer, so I should have some more time to update my stories! Now I'm really getting excited about this! This was supposed to have 2 POVs in it but Tempest's was getting really long because I love all these tributes so much! So next chapter will be another chariots chapter, this time from Torque's POV. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the characters in it! Next chapter will have more from the outer District characters!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: How do you like the relationship between the characters? Any predictions for the alliances yet? Any interactions you want to see between tributes in future chapters?**_


	8. It's Lit

~Torque, D5M~

I can't explain to you the type of dysphoria I feel as I prep team swirls around me. I wish I could tell you, hell, I wish I could figure it out myself, but I can't. I just feel irritable and upset when they're studying my body, whispering amongst each other about how good it looks or whatever. I really want to ignore them.

"Imagine some gold in that hair," they murmur, as one of the ladies fluffs the part that isn't shaved.

"Oh, that'd be so sexy."

I swallow hard but keep my place. After all, though I feel uncomfortable and grouchy and irritable, I'm still tough to crack.

"Let Christer in," says one of the girls. "He'll know what to do."

The smallest one, someone small and plump, runs off to fetch this so-called Christer.

"Christer is the best." The others quickly agree. They make way for my Head Stylist. Christer is tall and skinny, with curly navy hair with bright orange strands, styled up out of his eyes with a lot of gel.

"Prep team, you may leave."

"Christer!" one of the shrieks.

"I will request your presence when it's needed." The others exchange looks and scurry out of the room like mice.

"Carlton, correct?"

I clear my throat. "Torque."

"Hm?"

"I prefer to be called Torque."

"Torque, hm? A measure of how much a force acting on an object causes that object to rotate."

"That's right."

"Alright, Torque. I'm Christer. I'm your Head Stylist."

"Nice to meet you," I say, not cracking any kind of expression.

"Our District 5 boy. He actually has a chance this year, I think."

My heart thumps my ribs, but I don't flinch. "I'm not the District 5 boy. I'm agender. Which means-"

"Oh shit!" my Head Stylist cracks from his stoic persona. "My mistake, my mistake! I'm sorry."

"Er, it's fine." It's strange to be in a place where I don't have to explain it. I can't say I don't like it.

"They're right, though, some gold in that fluffy part would really be hot." He doesn't touch it like they did, though. "But we shouldn't worry about that now."

"Right."

"Let's get you dressed. I'm sure you'd appreciate putting some clothes on."

"Oh, yes. Please."

He calls my prep team back in just then, and they get to work. They change me into a black jumpsuit with little lights in it, before wrapping me up in white lights and attaching a charging pack to the waistband of the pants. I feel ridiculous.

Christer smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry it's so, er, _unoriginal_. I wanted to try and branch out a bit, really. But after the chaos of the conservative Snow taking office and Solitaire, the Queen of Unconventional, biting the dust… We're all going back to the original. No cool or interesting outfits this year. No cool or interesting _anything_ this year." He laughs. I puff out air in a sort of laugh with him.

"You don't smile much, do you?"

"No Sir. I don't."

"Hm. That'll serve you well here."

"I do hope so."

They fuss with my hair, not changing the style.

"I found some spray on gold dye," one of my prep team members says, shaking up a can.

"Oh, good. Let's use it." Christer turns to me. "I promise it'll wash out tonight."

I nod.

"Take off your glasses and look down now." I do as they say. They spray the stinky stuff onto my hair and put a glowing halo-type thing on my head, reflecting the shiny gold part. I feel slightly less stupid-looking. Slightly.

"Alright. Keep them off. Let's make your pretty face look even prettier." They sit me down, and I feel like I could be crushing the fragile glass bulbs but do as they tell me. They brush foundation onto my face, covering up any blemishes, and give me smoky eyes. "Pretty," hums Christer as he presses a pencil to my eyelids. I just keep sitting still.

After that, Christer gives me a grin and says, "There we go. You're ready."

We go out to meet Lorelei and my District partner, Static. Static is a girl one year younger than I am, 15. She has fiery red hair and freckles for days. She wears glasses, different from those at the reapings, much cleaner and better-fitting. We were silent for a while on the train before she started talking. She's a pretty cool kid, but I can't risk getting too close to her. After all, I have to get home to Kyria and Fiona, and Ree. If I don't make it home fast, Ree will die. I can't have my other sisters have to lose both of us at once.

Static is dressed in an outfit very similar to mine.

"Hey, I _love_ your outfit," she says, grinning and winking at me. I puff out air in a sort of laugh.

"Love yours too, fam." I give a brief wink, causing her to smile at me.

"Thanks!" she smiles at me.

"Sure thing." I walk over to the horses, and can't help feeling freaked out by the huge creatures. They could easily trample me to death. Someone like Kyria or Ree could easily die if the horses went out of line. And yet, when I put my hand out, the horse nuzzles it with the gentleness of a baby.

"They're so cool, aren't they?" Static asks.

"Yeah, they are." I don't crack a smile, though.

"Are you ready for this?"

"As ready as I'm gonna be to be a walking string of lights as we prepare to fight to the death."

Static deflates slightly. "Right." She climbs up into the chariot, turning her power pack on. I do the same, and we're illuminated.

"Well, it's lit, fam," I say.

She looks over, rolling her eyes at me, but grinning. "Do you ever smile?"

"Not unless something drastic happens."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Sure you will, fam."

She won't be able to make me smile. Not here. Not when I'm so far away from my home, from my friends and family. Not when I'm at the risk of dying, losing everything. Not when my survival means life or death for not only me, but also Ree. Ree's fate is attached to me now, more than it's ever been. I can't smile when I know that my sisters, at only 13 and 6, have to worry about two of their siblings at once. Not when Jost and Bev are probably sick with grief. Not when the opportunity to save my family has been thrust completely onto my shoulders, and their fate rests totally on me.

I look at the District 4 tributes, who actually look tasteful. The girl wears a dress that looks like fish scales, the boy wears a tunic and fishing net that shows off his muscles.

I look behind me briefly at the tributes from District 6. The girl is talking, the boy listening quietly. They're both all dolled up with gears all over them. The boy looks stiff, and bites his lip nervously. I notice that his eyes go everywhere around the room when he's nervous. I know I need to start taking mental notes about my competition if I stand any chance of getting home to my family.

The chariot lurches forward just then, and I hold on, wobbling to gain my balance. Static gives me a convincing grin before she turns to the crowd. She starts to wave, smiling at the crowd, standing as tall as she can. I know that I'd just look like a dumbass if I did that (not to mention it would totally invalidate the only real angle I can play), so I keep the stoic expression of nothingness on and stare straight ahead, not giving the crowd any attention. It's horribly loud, though, with hundreds of people screaming and waving at us. As much as my eyes are tempted to look at the movement on either side of me, I resist the temptation and keep them straight forward. I have to play up the pretty, quiet, smart, deadly angle. It's the only one I've got.

The chariots halt in front of President Snow, a young man with snake-like eyes. He makes his first ever speech, welcoming us to the Capitol and wishing us all the very best of luck. Then, the chariots turn and the horses start trotting back, in District order just as always. When it's over, I dismount first, glad to turn off the lights (it felt like they were overheating). Static gets out next.

I glance at her. "Well, now we make friends, right?" I ask, looking around. I still don't know if I want allies, really, but I might as well see what's here just in case I decide I do. Besides, not only do I want to get around and let people know how to address me, I also have to be scouting the other tributes for possible weak points.

"I dunno. I think I might just go back up to our floor. I don't think I want allies."

Suddenly, there's a big commotion as Tempest from 4 is dismounting from her chariot. Ezekiel from 2 starts running towards it, and when she falls, he catches her. The people that saw it are all wide-eyed, and the room is practically silent. The tributes make a cluster around her, not sure what is happening.

 _How did Ezekiel know to be there and catch her?_ I wonder, an eyebrow twitching slightly in though.

"You think she's alright?" Static asks quietly, among the murmurs of the others who watch.

"She's alright," Ezekiel says, his voice edged with a threat. The rest of the tributes disperse, trying to act natural but looking over their shoulders when they get a chance.

My mind is full of questions and observations now. _First of all, Ezekiel was watching her long enough to know that she was woozy. Secondly, he knew she was going to get out of her chariot anyways. He was there and caught her perfectly: almost too perfectly. He must be very keen to know how she was going to fall. He also must be keen on the signs of passing out, even though she didn't seem to be showing any of them too dramatically._

I glance over. He still hasn't let her go, I observe. _Maybe he was checking her out._ I snort to myself. _I can see it now. Star-crossed lovers. The Capitol would eat that up._

She's back on her feet the next time I look over, and everything seems to have gone back to normal. However, my observations are still buzzing around in the back of my mind. That whole fiasco unfortunately brought more questions with it than answers. I'll have to keep a close eye on those two especially, and the Careers as a unit. Figuring out the dynamic between the Careers is crucial. If I can figure out the relationship between them, I can use it just like a weapon.

"Torque?" Static snaps me out of my thought, probably noticing me still staring at the Careers.

"Oh, sorry."

"Hey there."

I put up a hand. "Hi."

"Static, right? And-"

"Torque." He looks up at me, blinking. Obviously he's confused because he doesn't remember me being reaped under that name. I clear my throat. "That's what I prefer."

"Oh. Alright, cool. I'm Winchester."

"Nice to meet you Winchester," Static says.

"Also… Another thing." I quickly explain my gender identity and pronouns to him, knowing that I'm going to have to do the best I can to get around and set things straight early on. Because even if I wait until interviews, that'll still be a few days when they're referring to me by the wrong pronouns, then it'll stick. The sooner I can educate them, the better. Winchester doesn't have a problem with it, though. He seems ready to escape, though, and once he says good night to us, goes upstairs. Static follows him.

The girl from 12 looks at us, shyly, as she goes toward the Careers. She's wearing the oh-so-typical miner's outfit. Her District partner looks even paler in his miner's outfit. I try to see one person from each District, so I head over to the boy from 7 when I get the chance. He's dressed like a tree, so he can barely move in the horrible outfit.

"Hello," I say. His eyes are two different colors, which is extremely off-putting. I study his face, my expression not wavering.

He puts up a hand in a wave.

"Need help to the elevator?" I ask, seeing as that's obviously where he's headed.

He nods a bit, and I start helping him to the elevator.

"Tomer, yeah?" He nods. "I'm Torque."

"Nice to meet you," he says quietly. "I'm not really looking for allies."

"That's fine, really. You just seemed like you were struggling."

"Yeah, just a bit."

In the awkward silence, I bring up my identity, requesting to be referred to with only they/them pronouns. Even though I'm the male tribute, I'm not a boy. He seems to be alright with it. When he goes upstairs, I take another look around, going to the duo from District 11. They stand together, with the girl from 7 and the girl from 9.

The 11 tributes are dressed like plants, Elias like an apple, Amaryllis like the flower she was named after. They are both very awkward-looking in their outfits. The girl from 7 is dressed like a tree, though with slightly more mobility than her District partner. The girl from 9 is in a grain dress. Typical.

"Hi," I say to them all, glancing around.

"Hi!" Amaryllis says quickly, waving.

"Elias," the boy from 11 says.

"Sequoia," the 7 girl says, shaking my hand.

"Linnea," the little girl from 9 says, biting her lip shyly.

"I'm Torque." They blink at each other. "It's a nickname, but I prefer it to Carlton. Also, I'm agender, so I only respond to neutral pronouns, they/them."

The others all nod, and I give them a nod and a "Thanks, fam."

"So, Torque, you're from Five. Biggest strength?"

"My wits." I survey them all, observing what I can about them. Linnea looks like she depends on the others for guidance. Also, I'm sure the poor girl's scared of her District partner. The 7 girl seems pretty confident. She's older, too. A chance for an ally. The 11 girl is definitely jumpy and nervous, probably scared. The 11 boy is smart, like me, a clever guy. Probably not the best to ally with, considering that we're both clever and intelligent. We could butt heads. I stay with them for a little bit, though, and when the group disperses, so do I.

I go to where the 6 girl talks to the 10 girl, and don't feel too surprised. They're close in age. Isa's confidence could definitely balance out Lindsay's shyness.

"Hey."

They both look up and seem surprised.

"Hi."

"Torque." The 10 tributes are both dressed up in dramatic cowpoke costumes.

"Lindsay," says the 10 girl.

"I'm Isa," the 6 girl says. She seems really confident, maybe even conceited. I take that opportunity to explain my pronouns, and they both take it just fine. I continue to talk to them, trying to get a grip of their personalities, even though I don't want to ally with either of them. I notice the tributes from 12, in their miner garb, coming closer and decide to catch them if I can.

"Hey."

"Hi there! Carlton, right! Are you going to sit on an elephant!?" Monterey stares up at me with wide eyes.

"Sorry for her," Aaron says awkwardly.

"It's perfectly alright," I say. "I actually prefer to be called Torque, though. Not Carlton."

"Torque… Cool!" she smiles.

They're kind of young… I might have to do some more explaining… "Also, I'm agender. That means that I'm not a boy or a girl. I don't really have any gender at all. I prefer to use the gender-neutral pronouns, they and them."

"They and them… No gender?"

"That's right. It may be a little hard to understand, but-"

"You can do that?!"

I puff out air in a kind of laugh. "Mhm. There are other genders than boy and girl, fam."

"Really?! That's so cool!" she looks like her whole world's just been changed.

"Mhm."

"Right. Well, we should probably be going," Aaron mumbles. I don't think he's much of a talker.

"Oh, but where's Static?! She needs to teach me how to help animals jump through hoops! Plus she's really pretty!"

I puff out more air. "She went to her room. I'm sure you can find her at Training tomorrow, though."

"Oh, yes! Of course! That makes sense!"

"Good luck you two," I say.

"Want to come ask Linnea to dance with us!?" Monterey asks.

"Nah, I'm good. Have fun, though."

"Thanks!" Monterey runs off. Aaron gives me a nod before following her.

After that, I go to where the boy from District 8 talks with Beowulf of District 9. Beo's been left shirtless, exposing red scratches and scars. Looks like they were given in the bedroom, to me, but it's still possible they could've been given in a fight, maybe. He talks and laughs loudly, confidently. I have to swallow down a touch of fear approaching them.

The boy from 8 is dressed up in a robe of a million different, clashing patterns and colors.

"Hey there!" he says, relieved to have someone else, "I'm Trekker Tidwell!"

"Trekker. I'm Torque."

"I thought you were Carlton!" says Beowulf, his brown eyes alight with a smile.

"I prefer Torque."

"Alright, alright. Damn, you're pretty, huh?"

"I guess so, fam."

He snorts. "Fam. That's cute."

"I suppose. I'm from District 5."

"Yeah, cute."

Trekker is awkward and in the middle, so I address him.

"You're from 8, right?" he nods.

"Yeah, that's right."

"Trekker's pretty fun," Beowulf says, before adding, "Oh, you can call me Beo, by the way. Or Jack."

"Jack?"

"Jack Merridew, to be exact," he says in a Capitolite accent. "I can sing a high C#."

A spark of recollection lights up in my brain. "Lord of the Flies?"

He lights up. "You've read it?"

"Uh, yeah, once. Freaky book."

"It's the best book."

"I'm sure you would think that. Well, good luck to both of you. I think I'm going to hit the sack."

"To each his own."

I clear my throat. I know I can't crack and show fear, but I manage to explain my pronouns to them without faltering. Beo gives me a pat on the back and a, "You got it!" I figure that's as good a time as any to excuse myself, and go to the elevator to go back up to my room.

Static is eating a late night snack with Lorelei. I suppose our mentors went to bed.

"Hey Torque!" she says, her mouth full. "Want some fudge?"

"Oo, yeah. Definitely." I take a seat and she passes me a block of chocolate fudge. It tastes delicious.

"How was it? Talking with the other tributes?"

"Nobody really stood out," I say, shrugging. "Not too many were very social."

"Hm."

"None of them are really good so far. But… Maybe if you wanted to stick to someone from home…"

She glances up. "Yeah?"

"If you wanted to…"

There's a long pause. Lorelei stuffs her face but doesn't say anything. "I don't know," she says quietly. "I'll have to think about it."

"Good enough for me."

We sit in silence, and I shovel some more fudge into my mouth. Static gets up, mutters a "good night," and goes back to her room, leaving myself and Lorelei.

"District 5's got a real chance this year," Lorelei says, mouth half full. "I can feel it."

"You think so?"

"Mhm. That one's got strategy. You haven't cracked yet. I'm not exactly a spring chicken in this business, I've been doing it a long time. You both have a chance. District 5 could have a Victor this year."

"Oh. Even though Static's younger?"

"She knows what she's doing. There's been 15-year-old Victors before. Don't let your guard down on her."

"I won't." I eat more fudge.

"Make good decisions with your training. And your allies, or lack thereof."

"Yes ma'am."

"Good b-" she stops herself. "Good."

I give her an appreciative hint of a smile before getting up. "I think I'm going to go get some sleep. It's a long day tomorrow."

"Good idea," she gets up. "I suppose I should be getting my beauty rest as well. Have a good night, Torque."

"Thanks Lorelei." I walk back to my bedroom.

I strip and shower, washing the dye out of my hair and getting clean with the rose-smelling soaps and weird water pressure adjusting thingies.

I crawl into bed tiredly, curling up and wrapping myself in the covers. I know that dreams of home will come tonight, my friends and family, the place where I belong…

I close my eyes.

I ache for home. I just want to be home. I don't want to be here, I want to have my sisters in my arms. I want to be with them, I want to carry their grief and I want to cry their tears so that they don't have to. I want to be with Jost and Bev. I want to be where I belong, and I don't belong here. Nobody belongs here.

I have to get home.

No matter what it takes.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: I don't know if I'm particularly happy with this or not but what the hell? Here it is. I just powered through it for another update. I'm sorry but I guess I just haven't been feeling very motivated to write this story because Silhouettes is so much more popular and successful. This is starting to feel like a side-project that has no importance, but I don't want to view it that way. It's not anyone's fault that this story isn't popular, if anything, it's mine. I still do want to write this, though. Thanks for bearing with me and reading it even though your tribute's definitely going to die. Thanks Jess for the motivation to get this chapter done. I need to figure out alliances and shit. I'll get there.**_

 _ **Anyways, that was kind of negative. But my collab with Dreamer, Champion of Destruction, is still accepting tributes, and they'll have a chance to actually win! It's really not competitive at all, we just want good characters, so as long as you make them like you made them for this story, they should be accepted. Please check it out!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Uuuh, I dunno. Which tributes do you want to see more of? A lot of the tributes didn't get much story time but I promise they will next chapter at training, but are there any in particular you want to see more of for sure?**_


	9. Gossip, Golding, and Gay Thoughts

~Whimsy, D1F~

Angelique Bellevue is almost as excited for training as I am.

Alma is pretty relaxed about it, though, but I catch him grinning widely when Angelique isn't looking.

I was kind of not expecting to like him, but I kind of do. He's a nice guy.

I reach up to mess with my hair, not used to it being up in a high ponytail. Usually I let it in a loose side ponytail, but for training I decided to hold it up out of my eyes. I like the feeling of if swaying behind me when I walk or shake my head.

"So, are you ready to show them all what we're made of?" I ask, shoving a croissant into my mouth.

"Of course." He flashes me a grin, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement, before asking, "Who do you think will take charge?"

I consider while I swallow the huge bite of food I'd just taken. "I don't know for sure. It could be anyone. Tempest is loud. Bellona is serious. Not that we're not. But…"

"No, no, I get what you mean," he says.

"I'm not intending on it, though. Are you?"

He shakes his head a bit. "I'm the youngest, after all. Only 17. Soon to be 18, but still." I nod, wondering why he wouldn't take that extra year of training. Probably because then he'd run the risk of being put against a friend. But he wouldn't, because Amaze is going to beat her out anyways.

"Ezekiel… What do you think about him?" Alma asks.

"Hm…" I consider as I chew and swallow more food. "Hm. I think he might… I dunno. I haven't quite figured him out yet. He's knowledgeable for sure. Maybe strong, or maybe just overconfident. He always acts like he knows things that we don't. Again, he could just be overconfident. Or a real threat."

Alma nods. "Right. And Branden… He's probably the quiet type. I'm sure he knows his stuff. And can put it into action. He could be a valuable asset, but he should be the first one we throw under the bus when things get tough."

I consider that. "Tempest might not like that idea."

Alma nods again. "They seem to be close. I heard them flirting back and forth before chariots."

I immediately perk up, leaning into the table, interested. My friends and I _love_ gossip. If there's romance between two of the tributes, you bet your ass I will be all _over_ it. We don't spread it outside of our group, of course, and we don't make up any gossip about people, but being in the loop is much appreciated. I want to know _everything_.

"Tell me more!"

He blinks at me. "Huh?"

"I want to know everything! What were they saying?"

He shrugs. "I don't remember exactly. I just remember they were flirting."

"Well that's no good, Al!"

"Al?"

"Yes, Al. That's no good, Al! I want details! I want to know everything about every possible romantic relationship here! I don't care if it's tiny Monterey and some girl she thinks is cute, I want to know everything!"

Al blinks at me, obviously not nearly as curious as I am.

I huff and pout. He's no help, really. I'll just have to get the details myself. Of course, I've done it before back home. I know everything about Amaze and Quality's love lives, and Brisk's. Quality is crazy into Brisk, and Brisk is crazy for a girl named Sweet. Amaze jumps back and forth. She's stopped focusing on love and started training full force for next year's Games. After all, Cheshire's still beating her right now. It's really going to be a race to the finish.

I wonder if they're really going to try to set up Glow with Cheshire (you thought we would joke about stuff like that?) or wait until I come back.

Unfortunately, though, one of them is going to be very heartbroken by the time the Games are over. Or… Both. Maybe both.

I shudder a bit at the thought.

No, I can't think things like that. I'm going to win. I have to stay optimistic and confident. That's the only Whimsy I've ever known, I can't let that go now!

After that, we eat in silence.

"Morning." Alma's mentor, Prospero Ashford, is the first of the two mentors to enter the dining room. I still feel a little starstruck around him. His dirty blond hair is just as neat as always, dark eyes alert and awake. The 29th Victor gets some coffee and takes a seat, watching us eat.

"So what's your strategy?" he asks.

"Follow whoever takes the lead."

"You have to be smart about it," Prospero says. "You also have to be smart about each other. District ties can be strong, and you need to be loyal to them. But don't get too buddy-buddy with each other. Only one can win."

"Well, that's a shame," I say, starting a joke. "Because I'm actually pregnant with Alma's baby." I put a hand lightly on my stomach, smiling dreamily like a young mother. Alma jumps a bit at that news, surprised, even though the only physical contact I've had with him was when we shook hands at the reaping. I break the act to burst out laughing, and Al laughs too.

"Don't you even joke about that," Prospero says, but his eyes are bright with amusement.

The other mentor, my mentor, walks into the room just then and I almost fall off of my chair because come _on_ holy fucking shit it's Platinum Krietzer! As in Panem's first ever Victor! And I've sat down and received advice from him! He knows who I am! Even if (when) I win the Games, I'll never be the first Victor. He's the only one who will ever hold the title.

He's going to be behind me every step of the way, which is amazing. I'm still totally starstruck seeing him just casually, walking past, no crowds, no cameras or paparrazi, just him. I don't have to sit up on my father's shoulders to see his face. He doesn't look perfect, he has a patch of dark stubble he missed on the left side of his jaw, and dark circles under his blue-gray eyes.

He looks like a human. He takes some coffee, a white mug against his tan skin.

"Good morning," he hums as he sits down across from me.

Alma looks just as stunned as I do.

"Morning," I say, echoed by Alma.

"So, your first day of training. I assume you're prepared for it?" I nod quickly, Alma doing the same. "Good, good. Eat up now, get your energy."

We nod, remembering how Tempest passed out from a lack of food and water at chariots.

I eat quickly, while Alma takes his time.

Angelique gushes about how much better District 1 is than District 6, where she had been escorting before. She spends some time gloating about how the young shot Rappucini got what he deserved, finally. I tune her out, daydreaming about training. I love training, and I love getting the details on juicy gossip, so today is going to rock. We go to the training center together, and I soon realize that I ate too fast and too much. Whoops.

We're among the first to arrive. Ezekiel and Bellona are there with their mentors, Nick Kensy of the 16th Games and Jupiter Tamboli of the 26th.

"Hey there!" Ezie says easily. "Good to see you!" He smiles at us and gives a slight wave. I wave back, smiling lightly. Nick talks with Bellona, but looks up and waves at Platinum when he notices we've arrived.

The District 4 crew arrives next, Tempest talking about how "the early bird gets the worm!" She's smiling confidently, possibly after getting a pep talk from her mentor, Salvador Castillion, who won the Games a year after Nick.

"Hey Tempest!" Ezie says, giving Branden a look that suddenly makes me want to get all kinds of details again.

"Hi!" the 4 girl says. Greetings are exchanged among the alliance as the District 6 tributes come with their single mentor, Cash of the 32nd Games. (District 6's other Victor, Godric of the 3rd Games, died this year from overdose of morphling.) District 7 comes after them. Luther Pultzer is even bigger and stronger in person! Last year's Victor keeps glancing nervously at his tribute, a strong 18-year-old with black hair and dark eyes named Sequoia.

Next year, the nervous new Victor is going to be me, and wearing this very uniform with a 1 on it will be Amaze. Because, even if she never outtrains Cheshire, I know Amaze has more potential: and the voices of the Victors are the most convincing of them all.

First, though, my training. I already wooed the crowds during chariots, but training scores will give them a reason to bet on me, too.

After District 7 comes 3 and 5, then 9 and 8. Then 11, 10, and 12 last, even if they're technically not late.

The Head Trainer explains the rules, which I count off on my fingers. Then, finally, we're released.

The Careers gather, and so begins one of the most important moments in the Games: deciding on a leader.

"I want to be in charge," Tempest says confidently, poise unwavering.

The rest of exchange looks. Nobody's going to fight her on it.

"Lovely," Alma says, and the rest of us nod.

"Well then, punk, what do you suggest?" Ezie asks cooly.

Tempest blinks at him. "What did you just call me?"

"That? Oh, sorry punk, it's just a speaking tick I've got. It's not personal, really it's not."

Tempest gives him a real look. "Alright. Well, we definitely need to show our stuff. I sincerely believe that this is one of the strongest Career alliances in all of Games history. Can't let anyone underestimate us!" We all agree. "But, we also can't die by survival blips. So everyone brush up."

"Right."

Tempest gives Ezie a look. "I'm going to the hand-to-hand station first."

Ezie gives a grin and ruses after her, saying, "Right behind you, Punk!"

Bellona and Branden both slink away without a word, leaving me with Alma. I go to the spears station to start with a strength of mine, Alma going to pick up a scythe.

I feel totally and completely in my element here, occasionally finding my allies in the crowd of tributes. Anyone that came close to me would be shown up and scared away by my skill.

After a while of that, though, I decide to go talk to Branden and see what kind of details I can get about him and Tempest. He's tying knots, so I take a rope and get to work.

"So…" I start.

"So?"

"Tempest and Ezie seem to be getting cozy over there," I say, gesturing over to where they grin widely and send jabs at each other, bluffing, playfighting, then fighting for real in a cycle. Tempest snorts as she laughs at him. They're a little adorable together.

So this might end up as a love V here, and I want to watch everything unfold. It looks as if, like it or not, Alma, Bellona, and I are going to have front row seats.

Branden looks over, his expression twisting for a second. "Oh. Yeah. They do."

I lean in. "How does that make you feel?"

He gives me a weird look. "What are you, a shrink?"

"Just a curious ally looking out for her ally. Having a brief chat."

He shrugs and goes back to his knot.

I huff. Closed book we've got there. Damn. "Fine, I'll get the details elsewhere."

He shrugs. "No details. Just some harmless banter."

I glance over at Ezie and Tempest and realize that I can't wait for this to blow up. "Yes, yes, harmless indeed," I say lightly. Then, I get up and go to brush up on my fire-building.

The other spend their time heavily focused on each station they're working on. I see some of the tributes having hushed conversations, but overall the training center is surprisingly quiet.

I can hear Tempest's loud voice telling Ezie to "quit calling me punk!" as her plastic sword clacks with his. Both are grinning, even laughing.

I hear Beowulf from District 9 talking loudly to other tributes and acting as a narrator.

I just focus on retaining as much information about building fires as I can. Just as I'm ready to keep on going on, they call lunch, and I get up, looking for my allies. I watch Ezie take Tempest's hand to help her up, and hold onto it just a half a second longer than usual. Branden notices it too. I wiggle my eyebrows knowingly at Alma, who gives a confused glance backwards.

I sit down and start to eat hungrily, glancing at each of my allies. Tempest is going to have a lot on her plate, that's for sure.

In the end, though, Whimsy Chandler is going to be the name up in lights. The Victor of the 42nd Hunger Games.

~.~.

~Beo, D9M~

I'll say that of all the tributes, District 9 certainly has the weirdest pairing of tributes.

Not to mention the pure ridiculousness of Cordelia. She goes on and on, _boring_!

At least I got Pierce Camerati for a mentor, and not Brody Abel. Brody won the 6th Games, in so many years he's only gotten one tribute out alive.

There was hope, a lot of hope, a while back when I was a young teen, I think 12 or so. She got second, though.

Y'know, I think that was the same year Nik's got his panties all in a twist about. I make a mental note to myself not to bring that up. After all, I should at least try to be more sensitive or whatever.

I guess I'm still in hot water with him though, huh?

I guess this'll be a good year for the kid though. Either he gets to laugh at my bloody corpse, or I'm gonna get home and win him back. Easy as that.

I don't have much reason to get home except for him. Like Chancellor's gonna wanna see me after I do what his little girlfriend couldn't. Like Grendel will be allowed to see me. Like she'd want to. Good riddance to all of them.

I promised Nik three years ago that once we were both safe from the reapings, we'd move in together. I put a lot of value on words, and I'm a man of my word.

I'm up at 5:30 that morning after having stayed up until 1:00 in the morning reading. A typical night.

No, a typical night is spent with Chancellor until 12:30, then reading until 3:30 in the morning.

Those days are coming to an end, though. Nik was pissed when I admitted they were love marks. I have to be loyal to him if I want to get him to like me again.

Our relationship's always been kinda bumpy, because honestly he can be kind of really fucking touchy. When we were younger he scolded me a lot for reasons that puzzle me even to this day. We always worked through that, though. I just apologized and said I wouldn't do it again, which was usually enough for him. If my apology was really good (and not to brag, but I'm marvelous at putting words together and delivering them), it earned some awesome make-up sex. So I can't say I'm mad that we argued a lot.

Of course, it wasn't just him bitching at me.

It was particularly bumpy when he was trying to get off of drugs, especially those times when he relapsed.

The first time it happened, I got mad and yelled at him, and he panicked. That really wasn't my shining moment, I'll admit. It took weeks to work through that. I was ready to give up and break up, but by some miracle, the relationship survived.

It kind of feels like everything in the universe said we shouldn't be together, we're too different, we don't understand each other at all, and yet it went on for a year, almost two.

Then my parents tried to kill him with a paperweight and I figured that was the big sign that we should just move on.

Well, my brain figured that. My heart, though, ached for him. Every night for years, I dreamt of him. I saw his eyes every time I blinked, I ended up hugging my pillow and wishing he'd be in my arms and nuzzle my neck.

I guess I figured he'd moved on, so I knew I needed to build up my defenses.

That's how I became numb. Unable to feel anything.

And now, by some crazy twist of fate, he's in my life again.

Just like I'd always dreamt of.

But I felt nothing seeing his face.

But, I can admit that the only times I've been truly happy were when I was with him, so for the sake of my pursuit of happiness, I should do everything I can to get back there. Once I get there, I'm going to figure out a way, devise a system where I feel none of the other emotions but happiness.

Between the two of us, we've certainly had enough heartbreak for both of our lifetimes. If winning Nik back is going to give me a shot at happiness, then for me I'm going to do it.

I flip the pages of the only book I need to get me through this experience: Golding's _Lord of the Flies_.

It's got an anti-war message, hidden within the story of little boys surviving together on an island.

Cordelia catches me as I'm writing a quote on the wall of my bedroom with a Sharpie.

"Beowulf!"

I look up, making a face at her in the light of my single lamp. I don't get why she's nagging me. It's my room. I keep writing.

"Beowulf Mortimer! Quit drawing on that wall!"

A grin spreads across my face and I decide to fuck with her.

I put on a fake, Capitolite-like accent to match the schoolboys in the book. "Who's Beowulf Mortimer? I'm Jack Merridew. I can sing a high C sharp."

She stares at me, her mouth agape in shock. She has no idea how to respond.

I keep on writing.

"Well, it's time to get out of bed and ready for training. Stop being so silly!"

I laugh. My parents, Eloise, Nik, and Chancellor will tell you that if you tell me to stop doing something, I'm just going to keep doing it with twice as much vigor.

"You can't control me, you bloody hag! Sucks to you! Sucks to your assmar!" I cackle as she walks out of the room. Even when she's gone I don't stop cackling.

After all, Beowulf Mortimer couldn't win the Games, but the violent, cunning Jack Merridew definitely has a good shot. To win for Ralph, the boy that caught his fancy and fueled his fantasies. That sounds like a fine idea.

I change into my training jumpsuit and run and hand through my hair before going out to the table and having a seat.

"Good morning Beo," Pierce says. He's really doing his best for me.

"Morning," I say, putting a piece of bacon into my mouth and grinning, almost feeling the joy of killing my own meat.

Linnea looks tiny as she slides into a chair, taking a scone. She watches me with quiet brown eyes. Even though Grendel has blue eyes, Linnea still reminds me of her. Probably because they're both so submissive and polite. And because they're both in my shadow. Perfect, pure children. Thrown into the Games.

"Are you quite done now?" Cordelia asks as she takes a seat at the head of the table.

"Bullocks! Of course not!" I say, accent back on, laughing with my mouth full of food. "Over there with the scone you see a littlun. Yes, Percival Wemys Madison. The Vicarage, Harcourt St. Anthony, Hants, telephone, telephone, tele-''

"Shut up!" Cordelia screeches. "This District has the snippiest tributes!"

I laugh some more.

Linnea, or shall I say, Percival, looks confused.

"It's some stupid literature thing," Brody says.

That causes me to outburst, losing the accent. "Hey! Literature is an art form!"

"There's Beo," Pierce says, eating a pancake. "You can't be Jack for your interview, you know?"

"I know. I'm just pretending."

"Alright. You just have to keep the two separate," he says cooly.

"I will. I'll pull him out at the right times. Sometimes pretending is easier than the truth." I laugh.

"Very true," Pierce says, with a grin.

I just keep on laughing. It keeps the fear and sadness away.

~.~.

I scout the other tributes as they arrive, looking for one or two I could take with me. Linnea wasn't interested in travelling with me (she's not stupid) but I'm sure I could find a few who are.

The first tribute to come approach me after we've been released is the little girl from District 12.

Oh yes. She's perfect.

"Hi!" she says, smiling up at me with bright gray eyes.

"Hey there!" I pat her head, and she giggles. "Monterey?"

She nods.

"You can be… Simon. Young, martyred, idealistic, dies early. Got it Simon?"

She giggles. "Simon! Call me Simon now, okay guys? It's my new nickname!" She has a light in her eyes as if she's talking to real people. Amazing.

"I'm Jack Merridew, I can sing a high C sharp!"

"Oh, wow!" She smiles. Her hand is in a fist, I notice. She looks around at the air then turns to me expectantly.

"Oh, sorry, I'm very old and my hearing's going. I can hear you fine, though."

"Oh, you're deaf too?! What a shame! Now, who in their right mind would put two deaf tributes in one Games!?" She sends an accusing glare to the side, like there's a camera there to catch her expression.

Man, this girl is fucked _up_! I love her already!

"This is Saul," she says, raising her hand in a fist as if she's holding the hand of someone else. "He's blind. That's Abcde, Ali, and Auntie Mabel. They're all very sorry to hear about your deafness."

"Oh, thank you, you're so kind." I decide to fuck with this girl some more. "Oh, Saul! I didn't even recognize you, you've lost some weight! How have you been, old friend?" I reach out, shaking the imaginary friend's hand.

"You know each other?!"

"Oh, of course, we grew up together! Didn't we?"

Simon looks amazed, beaming brightly. "Oh, yes, he says he remembers you!"

"Oh, yeah, remember all the good times we had together? I'm so sorry your vision's gone. I'm sure Simon here's taken such good care of you, hasn't he?"

There's a brief pause, then Monterey nods, beam widening. "Yes, he says I have!"

Well, at least I humored the sorry creature a little before she bites the dust.

"C'mon, let's go to the camouflage station." I strut over to the color, ignoring the Capitolite that's explaining everything in favor of streaking mud across my cheeks. Now I feel like a true savage.

"You know, Simon, the face paint is symbolic," I say, slopping some more color on my nose and cheeks. "It symbolizes an escape from the judgement of society, of the outside."

"I don't know what that has to do with the circus, but cool!" The words are going right over her little head.

"Come here, Simon. I'll put some on you." Some of the other tributes are watching, I notice, as I streak some red across Simon's cheeks. "I would help some of the rest of you," I say, addressing the others, "But I have to get back home to my Ralph, you see, so I only want two allies at most. Anyone else? Come on, don't be shy." I almost think the 7 boy is going to do it, but he just walks away.

When I turn around, my gaze is caught by that of a grayish green eyes. She's really not bad looking, with black hair and a pretty face.

"I'll go with you," she says.

I raise an eyebrow. She's perfect, too. "What're you good at?" I ask her.

"Shouldn't you ask my name first?" she fires back, a playful, almost flirtatious smile on her face.

I smirk at her. If this is how she wants to play, I'll play. "I know your name already. Sondra. District 3. I was really hoping to skip the pleasantries, but if you insist, I'm-"

"Beowulf."

So she's been paying attention. I need to get a grasp on her personality before I can unlock her strategy, so I keep up the game of cat and mouse.

"Beo. If you like, though, Robert, you can call me Jack."

She doesn't draw away. "Okay…" She seems confused but agrees pleasantly.

"Strengths."

"Climbing, running, sponsors."

"What, you don't think I'm pretty enough on my own?"

She laughs. "You're plenty pretty," she assures me jokingly.

"Well, as much as I love banter, I have to learn how to survive and how to gut things. Let's meet up, though."

"Alright. Do you want to divide and conquer then?"

I laugh, a small chuckle. "No, dear. That won't be necessary."

We separate without another word.

I sit next to the 11 boy next, where he tries to start a fire. He's talking to himself about friction, not noticing or looking up when the boy from 6 lights his.

I look up and give Wyatt a grin, causing him to jump and stare at the flames.

I laugh, but not even that gets Elias to look up.

"So… Elias, is it?"

The boy from 11 finally looks up, his brown eyes slightly wide. "Mhm."

So he's a quiet type.

"You're approaching that pretty scientifically, huh?" I ask.

He nods, getting back to work.

"I see. I don't do too much science, but from what I heard, Torque Nawrocki does."

I look around to find them, noticing how they keep glancing back at their District partner, who's chatting with Simon.

"So they do." He only hesitates about half a second on the pronoun.

"But you're not together?"

Elias glances at me, and I notice just how badly his brown hair is sticking up. He must not have even touched it this morning.

"Well, I've got brains." he says quietly. "I have no need for more brains. I need brawn." He glances around again.

I notice Robert, or rather, Sondra, has started working with knives.

"Well, I'd offer my assistance, but my alliance is full. And we have both brawn and brains." I tap my head and grin.

He just rolls his eyes, obviously not believing it, and goes back to his fire. In the meantime, I start to build mine.

Once I've had enough practice with that, I go to the station for gutting animals, sitting next to the girl from 7, Sequoia. She has black hair like Sondra, but the resemblance ends there. Hers is long, pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her eyes are brown, and she's built much stronger than the 3 girl.

"Hey there," I say politely.

She glances at me, unsure whether or not to give me a chance.

"Hi," she says finally, as we're given the dummy rodents.

I grin at the pretend corpse. "I'm Beo. But you can call me Jack." I get to work on the dummy, laughing when I accidentally get blood gushed on me.

"Okay, yeah, no," she says decisively, turning away from me.

I just laugh at that, too.

The last person I approach for the day is at the traps station. Winchester from 3 is there.

He looks intimidating, built strong. But you can't trust a book by its cover. He could be even more sensitive than Nik for all I know.

He and Robert are probably the second weirdest District pair. She's skinny, agile, strong in personality. He's strong, probably slow-moving. If he's sensitive, they'd be perfect foils.

"Winchester!" The boy jumps and I have a feeling he's not so scary. Knowing the 3 tributes are perfect foils sends a wave of satisfaction washing over me.

After all, I would've expected someone built like him to be training with a weapon by now, like Sequoia, who swings axes.

"How're you doing?" I ask him.

"Alright," he says, quickly undoing a knot.

"Yeah? Think you could show me a knot?"

He gives me a look, one eyebrow raised. "I'm not great," he says finally.

Of course. He's built from working, but he's really weak and trying to hide it. Unless he has something amazing up his sleeve, but I doubt it.

I watch him struggling for a while, then leave him to learn a sword, laughing.

Pretty doll from 5 is there, learning all that they can about the weapon.

I pick up a sword, a real sword with a sharp metal tip, and realize the gravity of what I'm doing.

I feel a little nervous, crossing the arm that isn't holding the sword across my chest to slow my heartbeat.

"Go away Beo," I say quietly. "Jack Merridew is gonna get us out of here alive. Back to our Ralph."

~.~.

~Lindsay, D10F~

The third day starts Private Sessions.

All 24 tributes sit in a room together.

I sit with Isa from 6 and Amy from 11, both tributes that are 15 years old like myself. I try to ignore the banter of the other tributes, the Careers talking excitedly.

Alma goes first, and I know it's going to be a long evening.

"What are you going to do in yours?" I ask the others quietly. "I know I'm going to get a bad score. I'm sorry…" I can't help but feel inferior. I'm not a killer and I know it. I can't hunt without crying. I teared up at the fake dead rodents, and I couldn't help it. It was just a shame to think about lives being taken so violently. Such small creatures feeling such extreme pain…

I love living creatures, animals and humans. It was dumb of me to think I could be anyone else but me, even for a week.

I wish I wasn't so sensitive, but I don't fight it.

This is the Hunger Games, it's kill or die… But I can't take a life.

Darrow was wrong.

He must've known I would never be able to justify killing another human being, even if I wanted to.

I'm already a walking corpse. Guess I always have been.

"Don't be like that," Isa says, giving me an optimistic, energized smile. "You'll do great! You can do anything!" Her pretty brown eyes are alight, but I can't help feeling like she's just saying that.

"Don't get down just because you're 15! There's been at least…" she pauses to consider, "One 15-year-old Victor!" Her point kind of dies there. She continues anyways, "Just look at me! I'm just 15, and I have a lot of confidence in myself! I know I can do it, I can be the next Victor if I don't give up!" Amy and I give her blank stares. "Anyways, you should be the same way. You can't just give up!"

I shrug a bit, even though it's kind of late for that.

I know she wants to see me smile, though. Of all the tributes, she's the one I understand better than anyone. We hit it off at chariots from the first time we talked to each other, and as we go on I find that I can read her better than the others. I know I shouldn't be getting this close, forming this kind of bond with someone in this kind of situation, but I'm already dead anyways.

Why should I spend my last days miserable?

I smile at her just as Bellona's called into training.

Seeing my smile, her grin widens. Her gaze lingers just a second longer than normal gazes do.

I notice across the room that Static lays her head on Torque's shoulder, eyes closed, glasses becoming crooked. Half a second later, she sits up, remembering where we are and quickly moving away from them. My heart breaks again.

I look around the room again as they call Winchester.

I remember that 23 young lives will be taken in a matter of days. Gone. My eyes pool with tears, that only multiply when I see Isa's concerned expression, knowing that as much as she radiates confidence, she has to be aware how low our chances are.

"I'm just going to do survival and something with a weapon," Isa says. Amy looks just as scared as I am, and I know Isa can't deal with both of us all on her own.

I try to put on a brave face, but I don't have a very strong façade.

Amy has a small flower that's been pressed in her hands, and she stares at it, bottom lip quivering a bit.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," I say quietly.

Amy shrugs but says nothing.

Suddenly, it's Isa's turn to go. She gives one last glance at us before she goes.

The room is quieter now that the Careers are gone. Sequoia talks to Trekker from 8, while Beo from 9 talks half to his District partner, who shifts uncomfortably, and half to himself.

I accidentally notice that the District 7 boy, who's sitting beside me, is glancing at his token, a picture that was hand-drawn. It looks like it's got him and maybe his family, with two adults, a girl, and a boy.

"That's… Really good," I say to him with a small smile.

He jumps, his ears flushing red and his eyes widening. "Th-Thanks," he stammers out, looking shy and awkward. He scurries off quickly when his name is called.

I catch Linnea's eye, who looks at me desperately, begging me to save her.

I pat the spot Isa left from, and Linnea quickly scurries off to sit down.

"Oh, _lame-o_!" Beo calls after her. The girl shifts uncomfortably, her brown eyes darting around nervously.

"You're okay," I say, but I know I'm lying.

She's not okay.

I'm not okay.

Nobody's okay.

After all, this is the Hunger Games.

.

I haven't really talked much to Hartwin, my District partner.

He's really tall and strong, compared to me especially, and he's quiet.

I don't want to talk to him, he could easily take me out if he really wanted to. He has a chance at being a Victor, whereas I'm dead meat. Even my own mentor, Ottilie Nevin, has given up on me and started helping him. Even if the 34th Victor doesn't say it out loud, I know that's what she's doing. I don't blame her, I guess, I'd give up on me too if I were her.

We've been kept separate, Ottilie giving Hartwin advice at meals and such that she never gave to me.

Now, we sit on different ends of the same couch. I'm curled up and leaning against the armrest, Hartwin is sitting up straight. I really don't want to be on my District partner's bad side, so I've been avoiding him as best as I can.

Inspektor's talking about some of the other tributes, alliances, strategies, whatever, before Polymestor and the new guy appear on the screen to announce training scores.

"Welcome, one and all! How lovely it is to be here, announcing another year. And, of course, Caesar Flickerman, everyone!" Polymestor says. He smiles, but something's off about his expression that he can't hide.

"See that look in his eyes? He's pissed that the new guy was put in a higher position than him. He's been announcing for so long, after Yin Kozart was promoted to Head Gamemaker, Polymestor expected that position to be unquestionably his. It wasn't. He didn't put in the work, and Caesar one-upped him. He was pissed."

"It's so good to be sitting here with you! Well, let's not keep you waiting! This year's Training Scores, everyone!"

I swallow a nervous lump in my throat.

"Almandine Riduanda, District 1… With a score of 8.

Whimsical Chandler, District 1. Score of… 8.

Ezekiel Bond, District 2… With a score of 9.

Bellona Steller, District 2. Score of… 8.

Winchester Barton, District 3. Score of… 7.

Sondra Sagacious, District 3. Score of… 6.

Brendan Kendler, District 4. Score of… 9.

Tempest La Rossa, District 4… With a score of 9."

"No 10s in the Careers," observes Ottilie, scratching her chin. "There may be a lot of them, but the scores imply that the can be taken down. Watch out for the 9s, but not even they are invincible. Remember that."

Hartwin nods, and I follow suit.

"Carlton Nawrocki, District 5. Score of… 6.

Static Durant, District 5… With a score of 5.

Wyatt Calistro, District 6. Score of… 4.

Isa Garza, District 6. Score of…" I hold my breath. "6."

Oh, wow. For a 15-year-old from District 6, she scored so well! I know that I didn't do anything impressive, and start to feel a weight of sadness on my chest.

"Tomer Bayard, District 7. Score of… 4.

Sequoia Kory, District 7… With a score of 7.

Trekker Tidwell, District 8. Score of… 6.

Abigail Cabalina, District 8… With a score of 4.

Beowulf Mortimer, District 9. Score of… 8." My heart sinks. I glance at Hartwin, who doesn't react other than an eyebrow raised, and wish I could feel so cool and nonchalant.

"Linnea Isenberg, District 9. Score of… 4."

My heart flutters with nerves.

"Hartwin McCoy, District 10… With a score of 7."

The whole room explods and gushes, and my heart sinks as I mutter a "Good job." I can't be happy for him. After all, if he were to win, I'd be dead. He outshined me, of course I feel bitter. They're still buzzing and patting Hartwin on the back as my face appears on the screen, a 3 appearing around my name.

I feel embarrassed to no end, and the tears come to my eyes before I can stop them when the others ask what my score was, because they missed it cheering for Hartwin. I just barely choke out the number, a tear rolling down my face.

They've all written me off before I could even try to prove myself anyways.

Hartwin gives me a glance, lightly touching my shoulder as they announce Elias's score of 6, and Amy's of 4. I start to cry quietly into my knees as Aaron receives a 2 and Monterey a 3.

"See? You're not the lowest…" Ottilie tries to reassure me, obviously guilty for neglecting me so much. As soon as the program is over, I get up quickly and dash to my room, sobbing quietly into my hands.

I can't believe it. I scored a 3, half as much as Isa got. I choked in there, and now nobody's even going to give me another look. I always knew the 6 girl was an ally and a friend that was out of my league. I can't do anything, I can't win the Games. I can't be that person. Nobody's got any faith in me anyways.

I curl up in blankets, realizing that in a matter of days I'll most likely be dead. I'll definitely be dead. I'll never step foot in District 10 again.

I sob into a pillow, trying to muffle the noise of my misery. I hate it, I hate feeling, I hate how I can't just put on a brave face. I hate how I'm afraid of death, afraid of blood, I hate how I see a creature in pain and feel their pain on myself. I hate it! I hate who I am! I hate that I have no choice, I hate that I have no chance! I can't change it. This is a person I used to be proud of, and now I hate her! Now I hate her and want to change her, just like my brother Darrow, just like Mom and Dad. I've totally lost my identity, and my pride and confidence has taken a tumble.

This is what the Games does to us. It only brings pain and sadness and suffering. I find myself angry at everything. At the Careers, for volunteering for this. At my mentor and escort for abandoning me in my biggest time of need. At the Capitol for forcing me through this mess. At me for not being able to handle it.

I've never been filled with so much hate in my entire life, and yet I can't make it go away. I hate my parents for making me feel like I'm constantly wrong. I hate my brother for sitting around all day and telling me how I should use the food that I earned, threatening to take it. I hate Inspektor, and Ottilie, I hate Hartwin for being so calm and not cracking under the pressure. I hate Isa for having faith in me when we both know that I have no chance, none at all. I hate them, I hate them all, I hate me for being pathetic and overdramatic and a baby. Most of all, I hate the Hunger Games, and I hate the Capitol for making us live like this.

I sob into my pillow for a long time, brooding in the feelings of hate that have been stored inside of me for years and years of my stupid life. I sob until I hear a knock on my door and sniffle, shouting angrily at the door. It must be Ottilie.

"What do you want?! I don't want your stupid… damn apology!" Swearing feels unnatural, but good to me right now.

The door cracks open.

It's not Ottilie, it's Hartwin. He doesn't fully enter, he just leans in the doorway enough to put a plate on the nightstand beside my bed. His eyes are gentle as he looks at me.

Me.

This pathetic little creature curled up in a ball, face red and tearstained, hair disheveled, a creature with nowhere to go, no hope for survival, past the point of rescue.

"Some chocolate cake," he mumbles awkwardly. "It's my favorite. Really good."

I stare at him for a second, trying to figure him out as I sniffle and dab at my eyes with the sheets.

"Oh. Thanks."

I hate that he's being nice to me when I hate him. I don't deserve it. He should hate me back. Not pity me.

He turns around and leaves.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Well, what can I say? It was wrong of me to ever doubt you guys. The positive response was everything I needed, so thank you guys so much for your words of encouragement. To thank you for your really sweet and kind words, here's a hella long chapter with a bunch of interactions. I just started writing and ran away with it. So thank you guys, everyone who reviewed or PMed with your motivation and kindness, thank you all so much! You made me smile so big, you have no idea. I really needed it.**_

 _ **I'm going to keep this story going full force and try to write another Capitolite interlude and interviews before I go east to school on the 25**_ _ **th**_ _ **. I really hope you liked this chapter, I think I'm really starting to get a grasp on tributes and their dynamics now.**_

 _ **Also, I'm just curious, so I'd love it if you let me know in the reviews: how many of you have actually read Lord of the Flies? It's fine if you haven't, I'm just curious!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Are there any interactions you want to see/want to see more of? Perhaps one of mine with yours that you think would be an interesting combination? Or yours and another submitted tribute?**_

 _ **Again, thank you all so much for supporting me, and the story! It means the world to me!**_

 _ **Oh, and also, I made a 42 personality quiz with my characters! So if you want you can take it and I'd love to know which one you get! (If you're interested I also have one for 36 and for 73)! Here's the link (minus spaces!): www . quiz-maker Q2MGZSE**_

 _ **If you're curious, I got Beo :3 Don't ask how the hell I got Beo. I don't even know.**_


	10. In Which Cicero Becomes 110 Percent Done

-Yin Kozart, Head Gamemaker-

Sometimes I really wish Kelley was here. I really need him in the hustle and bustle of being a Gamemaker. After all, I'm not Solitaire; I can't just waltz around while being all perfect and graceful and beautiful and brilliant while Deck babbles and Singe drools.

I wish I could just leave the babies off with Kelley, but Kelley refuses to come to the Complex, and I'm not going to force him. After all, even though I'm a Capitolite, a Gamemaker, a _Head_ Gamemaker at that, I'm still a human.

You see, the reason that Kelley O'Callaghan is an Avox is because his brother Edward O'Callaghan was a Head Gamemaker years and years back, and after he was accused of being involved with rebels, he was killed and Kelley was made an Avox. When Kelley entered Solitaire's household, he was defiant and always angry. He wasn't nearly as loyal or obedient as the Kelley I know.

That's because she treated him like a human. If she hadn't, he wouldn't be so reliable. She let him grieve. She let him be destructive. She let him let it out. She was compassionate and kind. She was patient and gentle. She was everything I never would've been for him. Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve his service, because if it weren't for Solitaire, I would have never seen the world in such an unconventional way. I would have punished him and hurt him, not hugged him and forgiven him.

Now I see, though. I guess that's what matters. After all, without him, I'd be alone. Not that I wouldn't have plenty of other Avoxes, of course, but none of them are as dedicated as Kelley, and none of them are even close to as well liked by the kids.

Right now, though, my area is cluttered with all kinds of things from the twins' baby bag. Books about random shit are scattered. Toys, pacifiers, and other things that are covered in drool are scattered around my Arena plans. I've never been the most organized.

Call me sappy or whatever, but having my sons' stuff on my desk reminds me why this Games has to be good. I just have to survive this year, that's all. Then I can take care of my boys in peace.

I have some time before my meeting, though, so I decide to take the boys around and give them some practice, hoping to have them speaking sentences soon. First, I go over to the plants station. Deck babbles happily on my left, and Singe gurgles cheerfully on the right. I go over to where some of the pictures are up on the screen.

"Afternoon Floris," I say. The man on duty looks up, making a tall vine grow up on the screen.

"Oh, Mr. Kozart. Good day." Floris has bright pink and yellow hair, and light, neon blue eyes for the summer. He changes his colors out each season of the year, and we often meet for tea when Games season isn't going on. However, when we're behind the control boards, he's a totally different person. Much more stressed out, tense, and professional.

"No need to be so wound up. You can call me Yin."

"Of course." He looks up, his expression softening when he sees the kids. "Hey there kiddies. How are you?" The boys babble in response, and I laugh a bit.

"They're fine. Staying out of trouble… For the most part."

"Ah, yeah, that's good."

"See the plants, boys?" I ask, pointing at the screen where the vine is growing. "There are some flowers," I point to a bright yellow flower on the screen. "And some trees," I point to a couple of trees. "And some berries." Deck coos, while Singe reaches for the virtual plants on the screen.

"Looks good, Floris."

The man smiles at me. "Thanks. I'll let you know as we make progress." He pulls up a model of a huge tree, that looks solid and real.

"See the tree boys?"

"It's a hybrid," Floris says, smiling proudly. He's really interested in this kind of stuff.

I bring the boys in closer to the hologram. Singe giggles and babbles, reaching for the holographic tree. "Tree!" he says gleefully as he reaches at the hologram. "Tree! Here tree!"

Deck, who has always been the quieter of the two, just coos happily and reaches through it.

"Say bye bye tree. Let's go see what Makvala's doing."

"See ya," says Floris, smiling kindly at the babies and tapping Deck's nose, causing the boy to laugh.

"Keep up the good work," I say, feeling cheerful as I walk to where Mackvala Baris is working on mutts.

"Afternoon Mr. Kozart."

"Hey Makvala. How's it going?"

"Good," she says, smiling when she looks up and sees the babies. "How is everyone else looking?"

"Things are perfectly on schedule."

She smiles and coos at the babies. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Can we see what you've got there? I'm trying to show the boys some Games vocabulary while I can."

"Oh, of course." She pulls up a hologram first of an eel, black with white stripes.

"Interesting. But… What does it do?" I know she doesn't like to be doubted, I can tell by how her shoulders tense with annoyance, her low, blue and purple ponytail sways as she shakes her head a bit.

"They bite. Toxic. Their coloration is a warning to predators to keep away."

"Oooh, interesting." She relaxes at my approval, although I know if I didn't approve she would argue.

"Look there, boys," I say, smiling. "It's an eel. See how it's slimy and squirmy."

The boys giggle at the words, Singe reaching out first to the hologram, then Deck.

"Eel!" says Singe happily.

"Yeah, that's right. It's an eel," Makvala coos. "Pretty eel, huh?"

"Pitty!" says Singe, causing the young woman's dark purple eyes to light up as she laughs.

"What else?"

She switches the screen to a hologram of a cat-like creature. Compared to us, it's huge. It has spots on it and yellow eyes.

"Jaguar," Makvala says. "Isn't it pretty?"

"Beautiful, I say quietly, reaching out to touch it, forgetting just a second that it's not entirely real.

The young Gamemaker beams proudly. "Thanks!"

"Kitty!" squeals Deck happily.

"Yeah, that's a kitty. Pretty jaguar, huh?"

"Meow!" says Singe, causing both boys to laugh. Makvala's beam only widens at the praise.

"Keep up the good work," I tell her, "We'll be around again eventually."

"Of course," she says, patting the twins' heads. "You two be good now!" she coos.

"They are good so very rarely," I say, laughing as I walk to the last station the boys should know.

"Cicero!" I wave to the young Gamemaker, who was absorbed in his work. He looks up, running a hand through his purple and green-streaked hair.

"Mr. Kozart," he says pointedly. I know he doesn't like the whole first-name-basis-in-the-workplace kind of deal.

"How's it going?" He turns to his weather screen, showing me the sun and storms.

"Our temperature regulation test just passed for the daytime. We have to test the breeze in the night and make sure everything is up to par."

"Wonderful!"

Suddenly, my personal secretary Taj appears. "Mr. Kozart, you have to be at the meeting with the President and his associates in five minutes!"

"What!? Oh, shit!"

One of the perks of being a Head Gamemaker instead of an interviewer is that I can swear whenever the hell I want now without putting any money in the jar. Solitaire used to make me pay for each curse, to break the habit so I didn't swear on television. At the end, the money in the jar was used on our first date. So I guess it wasn't as horrible as I thought.

"Yeah," Taj says. I know that the President isn't going to appreciate the babies, so I quickly take them out of the carrier.

"Cicero!"

He turns around, his synthetically green eyes looking annoyed. "Do me a favor," I say, shoving the baby bag at him. "And take them please."

"What?! Me?" He looks surprised but instinctively catches the baby bag when I toss it at him.

"Yes, you," I say. "Please. Everyone else is hard at work and you have a break. Please."

"I don't even-"

"Please, Cicero. I'm talking to President Snow right now, if you watch them I swear I'll put in only the best word for you and advise that he make you Head Gamemaker when I retire."

That gets him to look up and seriously consider it, giving me the opportunity to sit Deck and Singe on the floor at his feet.

"Please, just sit with them and read this book," I say, pushing down on his shoulders to make him sit on the floor and picking the book out from the top of the baby bag.

He takes it and looks at it with judgmental eyes. " _Fun With Shapes and Food_? What the hell is this shit?"

"They really like it, just read it to them, please?"

He flips the book open and reads out loud. "'This is a square. The cheese is a square.' What the actual fuck?"

"Just start from the beginning and read it, and if they get bored, there are weather flashcards in there as well!" I _know_ he's interested in the weather. And I know that he's interested in being a Head Gamemaker someday, for the 43rd and 44th Games and all beyond.

I see him make a face but he flips the book back to the first page.

Taj starts to drag me along. She's never let me be late for a single thing in my life, and she's not going to start today. I call over my shoulder to Cicero as I go, "If they cry try giving them a pacifier. If that doesn't work try playing with them. If that doesn't work feed them. If not smell them. Thank you Cicero! I'll put in a good word for you!"

I'm sure the boys are in good hands.

~.~.

After another crazy and exhausting day has come and gone, but now I'm alone with the boys for a little bit.

I still think of Solitaire all the time here. This house is filled with her ghost.

Singe is asleep in his crib, and I'm rocking Deck in my arms, who blinks tiredly but still hasn't closed his eyes.

"Your Mama would be so proud of you," I say. I tell them every single day. I never want them to doubt how much Solitaire loved them. I don't want them to doubt how much I love them. "And your Dada is proud of you too."

They're never going to remember her. Someday, their eyes will be blank and confused when I tell them about the legacy of their mother. Someday they're going to be awake at night, wishing they had two parents instead of one. Because even though I'm trying my best, I can't be everything she was. She has some big shoes to fill, as a parent and a friend and as a Gamemaker. Shoes that seem almost impossible.

"Deck." I hold my son close to my chest, remembering Solitaire's first great success. I remember walking around the Arena with her, her eyes lit up brightly as she explained each little thing that happened, each thing she came up with. That's when I realized just how great she was. Just how perfect and pretty and intelligent she was. Just how passionate and lively she was. Just how much I wanted to spend my life with her.

Yeah, I fell fast. Really fast.

I guess I'd always had a thing for her, hidden under layers or coldness and sarcasm. Who wouldn't have a thing for her, really?

"Singe." I rock his cradle gently, remember her second big Games. I look at the baby and remember the first time we kissed. I would do anything, _anything_ to have her back. If I could've died so that she could live and see our children grow, I would've done it in a heartbeat.

I sigh, still shaking a little bit thinking about her death.

"If you're even a little bit like her, you're going to take the world by storm," I say, rocking Singe's cradle before brushing some of the brown fuzz on Deck's head. "You're lucky to have her genes. You're going to be talented and brilliant, if you take after her."

Deck's eyes close as the baby drifts off to sleep. I get up and put him in his crib, rocking both of the cradles gently.

I _have_ to make these Games passable.

I _have_ to live.

I _have_ to be there for my boys.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: A bit of a shorter chapter, but I wanted to give you a brief interlude from Yin's POV. Makvala and Cicero both belong to my friend Jess and you can find them in their story Magnets, thank you for letting me use them!**_

 _ **After this will come interviews, and we'll hear from Wyatt and Trekker. Hope to see you all there!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: How done would you rate Cicero? On a scale of 1-10? Just kidding. The real Chapter Question is this: based on the mutts and plants etc., what are your ideas about what the Arena might be?**_


	11. Bread

-Wyatt, D6M-

Isa admires her allies a damn lot, even though she outscored both of them significantly.

Then again, I don't have much room to talk, seeing as she outscored me too. I just got nervous and fumbled around for a while before ultimately realizing I sucked and gave up. I know I can't lose hope, I still have to make it back to my mother and siblings. I know that I have to make it. Elise can't work, she's 14. My mother can't do it all alone.

I stand in line for interviews now and adjust the collar of my shirt nervously. I wish I could have a cool young stylist, instead all I have is an old woman who moves as slow as a snail. I know that I shouldn't care, but I think a lot of the other tributes' outfits are more put-together than mine. I just hope it's good enough. After my private session flopped, I need to interview well to get the crowd behind me again.

The only remaining District 6 Victor, Cash Walton, has two very different tributes on his hands. He's mentored a few years on his own, but I'm sure none of his pairs had seemed so incredibly… Impossible.

Isa isn't a quiet girl. She says what she means, what she feels. She's very upfront, and extremely confident. She's the kind of person that sees what she wants and goes straight forward to get it. She isn't kept quiet by anything or anyone.

Then, you've got me. I barely say three words, usually. I hate attention, and the prospect of interviews is a horrifying one to me. I don't want to talk all about me in front of the whole nation. I was hoping I could score well enough that I could flub through my interview, but that's not the case. I'm going to have to pretend to be outgoing and friendly during my interview.

Cash is naturally extroverted, like Sid, and he doesn't understand me well enough to give me advice. I feel overwhelmingly nervous as I stand in line. Cash knew exactly what to say for Isa, and tried his best for me, but wasn't much help.

The new guy, Caesar Flickerman, is wearing a midnight blue suit, his hair and lips matching. He already looks like he's having fun. My stomach flops.

Isa is in front of me, but she keeps looking behind her to see her allies. I swear she turns around at least five times to wave to them. When I glance back, I get a bunch of blank stares from the others, probably just as nervous as I am. I catch the 12 boy's eye, Aaron, where his District partner is tugging on his sleeve and chattering away excitedly. His expression changes, ever-so-slightly, as he raises his shoulders up and down.

I know the message he's giving me. Probably something along the lines of _"good luck."_ I can tell because of his slight expression change and the way he moves. Aaron shrugs in different ways, almost as it's his own kind of language. Like me, he hasn't said much, and every time I've accidentally caught his eye he's just shrugged his shoulders at me. I might be the only person who gets what he's trying to say. I guess it's just because we're so similar in our quietness.

Some of the tributes talk, some done. Ezekiel left his place in line to talk to Tempest. I watch Torque tap their District partner's shoulder and point backwards, causing Static to look back. When I glance behind my shoulder I see Monterey waving to Static with both hands, bouncing on her toes. Then, I catch Aaron's eye again, who gives a side glance to Monterey and gives me a shrug. I just grin and shrug back.

I only look up when Whimsy gives one last glance behind her shoulder, beaming as if this was the best day of her entire life. "Good luck everyone!" she says.

"You've got this Whimsy!" Almandine says from where he's second in line.

"Good luck Whimsy!" Monterey calls. Everyone else is silent.

I thought they would have put Whimsy in pink, but the District 1 girl is wearing a blue floor-length gown instead of the usual flirty, girly District 1 type dresses. Her blonde hair is in its usual side ponytail. She's beaming ear to ear as she shakes Caesar's hand.

"Welcome Whimsical!"

"Oh, please call me Whimsy," the 1 girl says, smiling sweetly.

"Why of course!" Caesar sits, and Whimsy sits as well, looking at the crowd fondly. "So Whimsy, you were our first volunteer of the year. How has the Capitol fit up to your expectations?"

"It's surpassed them, of course," Whimsy says. "I always knew the Capitol was beautiful, of course, but I really had no idea just how incredibly royal it was until I was experiencing it firsthand." That causes a lot of applause. Really, she'd be stupid to downplay the Capitol.

"Do you have a favorite part so far?"

"The food!" Whimsy says, eyes alight. "The food here is incredible! I've enjoyed everything I've eaten so far, from the tarts on the train to the meals!"

"Yeah? Do you have a favorite so far?"

"Well, I had some strawberries and cream on the train ride up, and honestly it was absolutely splendid."

"Ah, yes. The Capitol is so grateful to District 11, who produces all of our produce!" the crowd applauds at that, but I can't help thinking that they don't seem too incredibly grateful.

"Well, this future Victor is grateful to you as well!"

She doesn't realize how out-of-place the statement was until it was already out of her mouth. I like to think I'm pretty keen on reading expressions because I use them so much, and I can tell the exact second she realizes it. After all, she basically just spoke directly to District 11, promising to kill their tributes. But thanking them for their food and hard labor. That makes sense. Even if it earns applause from the crowd, Whimsy's eyes convey that she wished she'd chosen her words better. The rest of her face holds the same expression as it had before, for the cameras.

"Well, you volunteered. Why?"

"I'm fighting for honor, and glory. I want to make a name for my family, and be an inspiration to my little sister Pygmy and my little brother Brisk. I love you two! You be good!"

The crowd applauds some more. "Oh, yes, how sweet. Any other shout-outs you'd like to make?"

"Yes, actually. This one's for my best friends, Amaze, Glow, and Quality. I'll be home in a jiffy, alright?! Stay awesome! You'd better not be not-awesome when I get back there!" The crowd laughs and applauds.

Caesar launches into some more questions about home life for Whimsy, and she gives the answers that make you feel like you get to know her, but not well enough that she exposes any weaknesses. She's sent off with thunderous applause.

"Next up we'll hear from… District 1's Almandine Riduanda!" The aforementioned tribute gives a last look down the line, giving his allies a last shy smile before he goes out on the stage.

"Welcome Almandine!"

"Call me Alma!"

"Alma! Wonderful!" The two men sit.

"So, Alma, you also volunteered. Why was that?"

"Well, Caesar, it was all for my father. He had high hopes for me, and I wanted to meet up with his expectations."

"I see. What a loyal and devoted son! Well, I've got another question for you, Alma: you're only 17. Had you considered waiting another year?"

"Yeah, I did. But you know what, I just felt it. I just felt that this was my time. I knew it was. I knew I couldn't let it slip. Besides, my friend Cheshire is going to be on this stage next year, I wouldn't want to go into the Games with her, she's my best friend!"

"Ah, yes, I see. Well, that's plenty understandable. So, you haven't grown close to Whimsy or your other allies?"

Alma pauses, chewing on his lip. "Not really, no." I don't think I'm the only one to see through the lie.

"Well, that'll make this easy, then, huh?"

"I can only hope so." He doesn't agree quickly, not taking the arrogant angle. I think that was smart of him. "I mean, I worked hard. I just need to keep my head in the game."

"I think you shouldn't have a problem with that!" The crowd applauds in agreement. "Well then, Alma, who do you have to get home for?"

"Well, my parents, of course. I'm their only child, it'd suck for them to be without me. Another friend of mine, Regal, who's never stopped cheering me on. And, as I said, Cheshire. After all, she needs a mentor that knows her inside and out, and I do."

The crowd starts to "ooo" and applaud, and Alma realizes the implications of the statement too late, quickly having to talk his way out of it. "I didn't mean it like that, honest!"

"So, you're accounted for then, hm?" Caesar says, raising his eyebrows.

"No, we're not dating. We've never done… That before. Trust me. I wouldn't have feelings for her. _Trust_ me." The crowd doesn't stop laughing, though.

Caesar keeps going, asking him some more questions about his experience before his buzzer rings.

"Next up, District 2's Bellona Stellar!"

She walks out on the stage, her dress a long gown and her hair braided with gold. She holds herself highly. She's the quietest of the Careers, I've noticed, as the others just don't seem to shut up. She gives a slight smile as she sits, but she seems a little bit awkward.

"Welcome Bellona!" Caesar gives a mischievous smile as he asks, "Is there any adorable nickname you'd like to be called?" The crowd laughs and Bellona gives a slightly awkward smile.

"No, thank you. Bellona is fine."

"Of course. Much more serious than the others, hm?"

"I guess you could say that. I worked hard. I volunteered to avenge my friend and win honor."

"Friend?"

"Yes. I was friends with Fabian Rockwell, last year's male tribute from my District. It was always a goal of mine to volunteer, and losing him only gave me a boost of strength."

"So, if I remember right, he was killed by the boy from District…4."

"No. He was finished off by that guy. He was truly killed by our very own Victor."

"Oh… Well, this certainly creates an interesting dynamic."

"I used Fabian's death to motivate me to surpass anyone that might stand in my way. Now I'm here, and I'm still using him as my motivation. I'm going to keep fighting until I'm the lone survivor."

"Well, some very strong words from our District 2 girl. I love it!" the crowd applauds. She seems serious. I wouldn't want to cross her. Especially not if Luther Pultzer was my mentor.

"I don't say what I don't mean."

"There you go! How about the rest of your family and friends then?"

"Well, my parents are both dead, so I live with my Aunt and Uncle, cousins, and brother. My Aunt and cousin Corona didn't want me to volunteer, but they didn't stop me. When they pressed me, I just remembered my hunger for victory. My brother Mars is 15."

"Oh, so will we see him within the next few years?"

"No, he doesn't care as much as I do. He'll just be glad to be living with me in the Village."

"Well, not everyone can be as strong and determined as you, now can they?"

Bellona shakes her head. Caesar asks her a few more questions about the Capitol and about her home-life before her buzzer rings.

"Next up, it's Bond. Ezekiel Bond!"

The crowd applauds as Tempest flashes the boy from 2 a thumbs-up and he walks out on stage, a lazy swagger in his posture.

"Welcome Ezekiel!"

"I'm bringing back the adorable nicknames," the boy from 2 says, giving the crowd a grin, "You can call me Ezie." The crowd applauds and laughs again, and even I admit his energy is infectious.

"Well, it's great to have you Ezie. So, you're also a volunteer, of course. After all, a year without a District 2 male volunteer would be pandemonium, wouldn't it?"

"Oh yes, it'd be pandemonium alright," Ezie says. "It'd also be pandemonium to have two Gamemakers trying to share the position. Or a mostly clueless Career pack. Or two deaf tributes and two mute tributes in one Games."

"That's what I said!" Monterey calls from the back.

Ezie just gives a half smile. "Or, y'know what, just throw it all together there and make one big melting pot of chaos."

"Wow, that would certainly be pandemonium!" Caesar says. He's got the crowd laughing and smirks, but there's a look in his eyes, just for a split second, that I can't read. "So, Ezie, what brings you to our lovely Capitol in pursuit of the title of Victor."

"It all comes down to my Mom," he says. "I also wouldn't be where I am today without the support and guidance of my very special friends. Here's a shout out to you guys! Eddie, Isaac, Catelyn, thank you for all the guidance you've given me. Couldn't be where I am today without you!"

The crowd applauds at that.

"So sweet! Nice to see we have such a lively batch of volunteers this year!"

"Certainly bodes well for the Victor, doesn't it?" Ezie asks, still half-smirking.

"It does! So, obviously you volunteered, you must be pretty confident in your ability to win."

"Oh, for sure. I know my own abilities, and I've done my research while being here. I surely won't disappoint."

"Some more strong words, I love it!" the crowd applauds in agreement. "So, have you enjoyed the food? What would your favorite be?"

"Anything with oranges in it." The audience laughs.

"Anything with… Oranges?"

"That's right, Caesar. What can I say? I'm an orange kind of guy."

"Strawberries, oranges, well, it appears as if the Career pack this year would make a delicious fruit salad!"

The crowd bursts into laughter, and Ezie laughs too. I hear Tempest snort from laughing out loud.

Once that dies down, Caesar asks a few more questions about training and the Capitol before Ezie's interview is over.

"Next up, District 3's Sondra Sagacious!"

The girl walks out onto the stage, a cheerful smile on her face.

"Welcome Sondra!"

"Thanks Caesar." Her prep team did well for her. They dressed her in a dark green gown that brings out her eyes and makes her figure look even more slender than before. She smiles and waves at the crowd very gracefully before she takes a seat.

"So, our first tribute of the night that wasn't a volunteer, but certainly not one that stands no chance."

"You're right Caesar. I may have been a little bit surprised to be reaped, but I've picked myself up, and you shouldn't count me out just because of that."

"Well, you look spectacular. Your stylist did a wonderful job."

Sondra giggles. "Thanks," she says, smile still on her face. She really does have a pretty smile, and with the make-up and the glitz and glamour, it only helps her angle.

"So, you have a lot to fight for, I bet."

"For sure, Caesar." She gave another smile, and the crowd ate it up.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Well, of course, my parents. I'm their only child. Their pride and joy. My father's worked so hard for me, and my mother's always been there when I needed her. Really it would be horrible of me if I gave up. And, of course, my friends. I have a lot of them, and they've helped me through so much. I owe so much to them. I know that all they want is for me to make it back home to them. I just want them all to stay strong."

"I'm sure they will! Although it seems you give them a lot of strength too, huh?"

"I would say so. They've given me a lot of strength; I can only hope I was good enough to return that favor."

"Well, I'm sure you were great. After all, we love you here, don't we?" The crowd cheers in response. Sondra gives a wide smile and giggles happily.

"Why, thank you. It's so good to see that I have supporters and fans. I hope that I won't let you down!" She's met with more applause.

She continues the sweet and also attractive persona as she goes, being flirty and making the audience laugh, until her interview is over.

"Next up, from District 3, Winchester Barton!"

The boy goes out on the stage, smiling slightly as he goes but not overdoing it. He takes a seat next to Caesar after politely shaking the intereviewer's hand.

"So, Winchester, welcome! I think the lingering question we've got here is about your strength. A good thing to have in the Arena, but in a place like District 3, how did you manage it?"

Winchester just gives a small smile. "A lot of hard work, that's for sure."

"What a dedicated young man!" The crowd applauds in agreement. "So, what do you bring to the table?"

"Well, training really taught me how to use what I've got. Not to mention it helped me to build up on some important skills. I'm not one to be counted out!"

"Yes, it seems so! So, what is your favorite part of the Capitol?"

"I like it all, really. I really like the environment, it's really a beautiful city, the architecture is great, and the living conditions are really good. And, of course, the food."

"Yes, it seems the chefs at the Tribute Center are certainly good at what they do!"

"For sure! Their French onion soup is to die for."

"Sounds delicious, for sure! So, tell me about your family and friends."

"Well, I have both of my parents. My mom works really hard, and my Dad's really affectionate. I have two younger sisters, as well, that need their brother back to them, even if they say they don't. Then I have my best friend Leaf, whose birthday is actually tomorrow." The crowd applauds and cheers.

"Well, happy birthday to them!"

"She's cool. We talk a lot and work together."

"Well, that's very sweet! I'm sure when you get home, you'll be able to buy her a cake and you can celebrate together!"

"I sure do hope so."

Caesar asks him a few more simple questions about the Capitol and home before his time is up. Caesar presents him one more time, and the crowd applauds for him.

"Next up, prepare for a storm… District 4's Tempest La Rossa!"

The girl, wearing a low-cut gray dress that ends at her knees, goes out on the stage, waving and smiling like a champion. Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail and filled with extensions that make it look almost unrealistically full.

"Welcome Tempest!"

"Oh, thanks Caesar! It is absolutely _wonderful_ to be here! It's always been a dream of mine to be in the Capitol!" The crowd applauds wildly at that.

"Well, please, have a seat. Tell me, Tempest, you say you've always wanted to be here, how have you found it?"

"Every part of it is spectacular. I've been having the time of my life here. I love everything about this place. I love food, of course, too, as well as… Everything." She speaks quickly, excited, but I can tell she's genuinely excited. I can't believe it. Why would anyone be excited to be here?

"Yes, that seems to be the consensus. So, you volunteered loud and proud, then. Tell me, then, what does this mean to you?"

"Everything. I have to win, you see. My family has a legacy of women that were once strong and powerful surrendering themselves to men by marrying for money. I want to be more than that. I'm strong and independent now, and I want to be strong and find someone that I actually love and want to spend the rest of my life with, rich or poor, whatever it may be. I want to win the Games so I never have to worry about funds. I want the honor of being a Victor."

The crowd murmurs, mesmerized by her words. "Well, I'd say that's a very strong and powerful reason to volunteer."

"It's for my family and friends, of course, but it's also for me. I'm big enough to admit that I look after myself. You see, Caesar, I am the golden child, and I refuse to settle for anything less than Victory."

The crowd bursts into applause, screaming and cheering for her.

"Well, here we have some more strong words! Hopefully our dear Career tributes don't butt heads, or at least not too early on."

"I hope so too. After all, the alliance is under _my_ jurisdiction."

Though the arrogant strategy makes me cringe, and I'm sure the other Careers will be on her, but the crowd is eating it all up. They love it, they love her. They have faith in her ability to win.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I certainly like a woman that can take charge!"

"Well then, it looks like we'll be good friends. I do what needs to be done. I'm going to fight, and going to win. I volunteered for a reason."

"It certainly appears so. Even though it doesn't happen too often, I just love when District 4 tributes are just as vicious as those from 1 and 2. Don't you agree?" The crowd applauds in agreement.

Caesar asks Tempest a couple more questions about her home life before he announces the next tribute.

"Everyone, give it up for Branden Kendler!" The crowd applauds as the District 4 boy walks onto the stage, smiling and waving.

"Welcome Branden, welcome!"

"Thanks a bunch Caesar, it's great to be here."

"So, our final volunteer of the Games. How have you enjoyed your time in the Capitol?"

"It's been good, Caesar, really good."

"That's good! Any parts in particular stand out to you?"

"Not particularly. It's all really good. I don't come from the rich part of my District, so some of the things I've seen here have been pretty amazing."

"Well then, I don't think we need to know why you volunteered."

"Of course. I have to fight to give my mother and brother a place to live in peace. They never really cared to shoot for higher, especially not after my father died. You see, Caesar, I have a lot riding on me. I volunteered for a real reason, I need this. I don't just want it, I _need_ it. You think I would mess it up?"

"Absolutely not. It seems like you're determined."

"For sure. I don't have a choice but to win. My family needs it. Not to mention that I'm ambitious enough to keep going and never let anything stop me, and competitive enough that I want to win. First place."

"Well, I think that's very plausible." The crowd applauds in agreement.

"It is. I just have to stay focused. If you're watching this and you're going to be betting, put your money on me. You won't be disappointed."

"Well, there you are. We've got some strong words here straight from the source. This is not a tribute that's going to go down without a fight."

The crowd applauds, cheering loudly, eating him up.

"So, are you taking a token into the Arena with you? A reminder of home, perhaps?"

"Yeah, I have something." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a seashell.

"Ah, yes, a District 4 beauty."

"It's definitely a reminder of what I have to fight for. My father gave this to me before he died. He told me that as long as I had this, he'd be with me." The crowd is enamored, murmuring sympathetically. They're touched by this story. I wonder if it's totally true or not.

"Well, that will surely help you through even the worst of times."

"Certainly seems so." Caesar asks a couple more questions about how Branden did at training and some of his strengths before his buzzer rings.

"Next up, she's electrifying, give it up for Static Durant!"

The crowd applauds as the girl walks out, her glasses for once not crooked. Her dress is plain, off-white, but it makes her red hair the star of the show.

"Welcome Static!"

"Thank you, Caesar! Thanks a lot!" she waves at the crowd, causing another round of cheers. She's adorable.

"Well, you seem bubbly!" Caesar says, obviously surprised considering the way she acted when she was reaped.

"I'm feeling good tonight!"

"Well, that seems like it will bode well for your chances in the Games, doesn't it?"

"I hope so. Caesar, you'll find that I don't stay down for long."

"Well, that _definitely_ bodes well for you!" The crowd applauds in agreement.

"Thanks!" she says cheerfully.

"Well, how have you settled into the Capitol?"

"Really well! The people I've met here have been amazing. The food is great, and the living conditions are miles better than we have back home. I can't complain." The crowd applauds some more.

"Well, that's certainly good to hear! So, Static, you're not necessarily as strong as some of the others, and you're not as old. Why should we at the Capitol give you a second glance?"

"Strength isn't everything, Caesar! Look at the all the Victors in history, the common thread between them isn't that they're all strongmen. The common thread is that they're smart. Even the strong ones had strategy. The dumb ones, even if they're strong, die off early. Always. The smart ones, those are the real winners."

The crowd starts to cheer loudly. Static had successfully made her case.

"So, you say they have strategy. Do you?"

A slow grin creeps across her face. "Maybe."

"Well then, it seems that it'd be a sin to count you out!"

"For sure!" Static says, giving the audience finger guns, causing the applause to continue.

"So then, you're smart. But, it appears, so is your District partner, Carlton. Have you talked to him at all?"

Static's bubbly disposition disappears just like that. "Don't misgender my District partner," she says, her voice succinct and clear. "Torque and I have talked a little bit. But we're still not sure if _they're_ coming with me or not."

"Oh? Interesting then. Well, off of them and onto you. Tell us about your friends and family. Who was the girl you were holding the hand of when you were reaped?"

In a flash, Static is smiling again, the bubbliness back just as it had been. "Oh, yes. Well, my Dad's kind of strict. Keeping us out of trouble, I guess. Because Arc and I- oh, Arc's my brother- we cause a lot of trouble."

"Arc?"

"Oh, yes. He's 18, so he won't have to go to a reaping next year."

"Ah, I see. Well, his sister will be a Victor."

"True." Static grins. "I have another brother too, Disc, he's 12. So he's on the opposite side. My Mom works a lot and leaves my Dad to deal with us most of the time. As for my friends, one of my best friends is named Current."

"Oh, yes, like a static current."

Static just sighs but keeps smiling. "Yeah. He pulled me out of my shell, a lot. And my other friend, who I was with at the reaping, is named Faraday. Love you guys!"

"Well, Static, I hope you get back to them!"

"So do I." Caesar asks her a few more questions about the Capitol and about her strategy (which she doesn't crack on), before her buzzer rings.

"Next up… We have District 5's… Carlton Nawrocki!" The crowd applauds as they give us all a salute before turning around and walking out there confidently.

"Welcome, welcome!"

"Thanks a bunch," Torque says, not cracking as they take a seat. "Well Caesar, I'm bringing about the adorable nickname procedure. Nobody ever calls me by my real name. Call me Torque."

"Torque, so Static was right?"

"That's right. She was right about my pronouns too, I only really use they/them. So thanks a lot for that fam." Torque gives finger guns at the camera that are meant for Static. Their face is still devoid of any emotion but neutral, just like they'd always been. They didn't even crack when they were reaped.

"Well then, there you have it right from the source! So, Torque, you haven't really shown much emotion since you arrived. Nothing's really made you crack."

"That's right. I don't really emote very much. Not because I'm heartless and don't feel-" they give an accusatory look to the camera, causing Beo to bark out with laughter behind me (which causes me to jump)- "but simply because I don't really show it outwardly."

"Well, I think that could work to your advantage," Caesar says. "Too often we see tributes crack."

Torque nods.

"So, how have you enjoyed the Capitol so far?"

"Oh, I've found it to be nice. I never thought about living in luxury, but now that I'm here I really want to. I want to take my sisters there. I want to relieve my parents of their working responsibilities. I want to help out my friends."

"Well, I'd say that here we have a tribute that is devoted to the ones they love, is that right?"

"Well, I want to win for them. Who wouldn't want to win for their family?"

"True, true. Tell me about them."

"I have two parents that work hard. I have three younger sisters. Fiona is 13. Ree is 9. Kyria is 6." They keep an effortless air, but I can tell they're struggling to keep a straight face. "Ree suffers from leukemia. She's in the hospital as we speak. She needs treatment. I have to go home and get her what she needs. I don't have a choice, Caesar."

The crowd is quiet. Torque's expression doesn't change, though, but their words are horribly heartbreaking.

"Well. You certainly don't."

"I'm smart. I've trained. I've been studying the competition. Don't count me out. I don't have a choice, I have to win."

"Well, there you have it, straight from the source!"

Caesar talks to Torque some more about their friends and their home life. Torque doesn't show any kind of emotions through the rest of the interview. Caesar presents them one last time, and the crowd applauds. Sure, they didn't evoke a reaction like Alma or Tempest did, but still it could've been worse.

"Next up, she promised to be your next Victor, here's… Isa Garza!"

My District partner turns around, winking at her allies, and skips out on the stage, leaving me in the front of the line.

"Isa! Welcome!"

"Thank you so much, Caesar," she says, smiling kindly.

"Well, you haven't changed since your reaping then."

"Oh, no. Of course I have. I've been to training, of course, and from there I've gotten stronger and smarter. Not to mention I have allies now!"

"Oh? Who would they be?"

"Lindsay from 10," Isa says, grinning, "And Amy from 11."

"Yeah? Well, that's grand. You'll get along well, won't you?"

"Oh, we will for sure. There's nothing we can't do!" Caesar doesn't mention the difference in training scores, probably in an attempt to keep the mood up. After all, he'd seen how quickly Static's demeanor changed when he misgendered Torque. He didn't want another round of that.

"I believe it, do you?" the audience applauds and cheers.

"But, when it's all said and done, you're going to come out on top?"

"Of _course_!" Isa says, grinning. "Ever since I trained and learned, I've only gotten more confident!"

"Isn't she a firecracker?" Caesar asks the crowd, and he's met with a bunch of screaming and applause. I sigh quietly, knowing that it's going to be hard as hell to show her up, especially when I'm so… Wyatt. "I love it! I just love it! So, Isa, what is your favorite part of the Capitol?"

"What can I say Caesar? I love food. The ice cream is unlike anything I've ever had before. It's spectacular."

"The ice cream _is_ pretty good!" The crowd responds with a lot of applause.

"So then, Isa, I'm sure a bright and sunny little girl like yourself has a lot riding on her getting home! Why don't you tell us what you've got going for you?"

"Well, alright. My parents work really hard for me to have things to eat. Then, I have three brothers, all older. Ramon moved out with his boyfriend, but Tulio and Enzo are still around. I don't see Enzo around very often, but Tulio and I are really close, so I'm thinking of him. As for friends, my best friends are named Dot, Ned, and Aileen! I miss them all so much, and I know they know that I'm thinking about them as I go!"

"Oh, how sweet. This is a girl that isn't going to give up!"

"Definitely not!"

Caesar asks her a couple of questions more about her strategy and her allies, and with each second, my heart pounds harder because I know that in less that three minutes, two minutes, one minute, I'll be the one up on that stage and I have no idea what I'm going to say.

"Isa Garza, everyone!" The crowd applauds.

"Next up… District 6's Wyatt Calistro!"

My heart falls to the pit of my stomach. I give a last glance behind my shoulder and catch Aaron's eye again. He gives me the smallest smile and bit of a shrug, the most emotion he's shown since getting here.

I walk out on the stage, and the lights practically blind me, causing me to freeze in my tracks. Everything I see is a blur of white.

"Are you alright?"

I shake it off, focusing on the midnight blue blur of Caesar and making his details come into vision.

I just give a nod, sitting down and swallowing hard, as if I could swallow the nerves down and hide them.

"It's a bit overwhelming, being here, isn't it?"

I give a nod, still not ready to talk.

"So, Wyatt, how has your experience been?"

 _Come on, Wyatt… Speak… Say words. Out loud._ I just shrug. The crowd laughs.

"Not a man of many words, are you?"

I know I'm not strong at all, I'm just a weak nerdy kid, I can't play the strong and quiet angle because I'm not strong, I'm not cool, it doesn't work… But I can't make myself speak. So instead of trying for words and making noises that are like a fish out of water, I just shrug again, and the crowd laughs.

Caesar's eyes suddenly carry a look of determination at knowing I'm a challenge to open up. "Well then, why don't you start by telling us about yourself? What is your favorite food you've tried here?"

I forget every food ever. "Bread." The crowd laughs some more and I feel my ears grow hot with embarrassment.

Caesar laughs too, though he seems like he's laughing with me, not at me. "Well, what about your family? You seem like a family man."

I give a nod and choke out, "I am."

"What's your family like?"

I take a deep breath and try to make an effort to speak above a shy mumble, but I can't. I speak very slowly, in very fragmented stories. "Uh, M-Mom… Is nice. Works really hard. I have… Two siblings… Elise. She's 14. Stanton. 11." I hate hearing my voice being projected so loudly across the crowd. I hate feeling like I'm in the center of attention, feeling like I'm a bother just because my voice is being heard.

"How about friends? Do you have a lot?"

"No," I say honestly. "Just Sid. He's nice. He's loud." The crowd laughs, and I realize I really sold him short. "But great. He's great."

"That's sweet, is it not?" The crowd gives some weak applause, and I smile gratefully. "And look at that smile, aren't his dimples just adorable?" The crowd picks up and applauds louder, which makes me give them a bigger smile. "Well, Wyatt, though you're a man of few words, it seems you're a charmer. Would you ever consider dating a fan?"

I shrug again. "If they bought me dinner." The crowd laughs, but this time it feels like they're laughing with me.

"Dinner of bread, perhaps?" The crowd roars with laughter at that, and even I manage to let go of my nerves to give a weak laugh. I know that now that I've dug a trench for myself, the only way I'm going to get out of it is the only thing I know to do: laugh at myself.

"Yeah, dinner of bread. Definitely. I should've been born in District 9, I just love bread." That gets them to laugh louder, and makes me grin, as genuine as I can grin in a situation like this. "Bread of all things. That was the only food I could think of when you asked."

"Well, how about now? What's your second favorite food?" Caesar asks, giving me a grin.

I let out a small laugh. "We had veal and peppers the other night. It was really good."

"Oo, sophisticated. What, our desserts don't fit the Wyatt standard?"

"Oh, of course not. They're really good, I just like meat."

"And bread?" The crowd laughs some more. It seems as if they just can't get enough of the joke.

"Yes," I say, laughing a bit, "And bread."

I feel nothing but relief when my buzzer rings and Caesar presents me one last time.

"Everyone, Wyatt Calistro!" the crowd applauds.

As soon as Caesar lets go of my hand, I exit the stage, and as soon as I'm out of the camera's sights, I flop down on a couch and take off my shoes.

I really did my best… I hope that it's enough.

It just has to be enough.

~.~.

 ** _A/N: Here we go with the first chapter of interviews! I hope that you liked them and I hope that the long-ish chapter didn't scare anyone away!_**

 ** _I'm gonna start a Charahub for this story eventually… I wanna draw all the tributes first though. So I should just take the time to do that. Wahh_**

 ** _I think that's all I have to say for now. Next up is Trekker's POV for the rest of the interviews, which should hopefully be done by the 25th!_**

 ** _Chapter Question: Were there any of the interviews that made you laugh? If so, which ones/which parts?_**


	12. The Worst Birthday EVER

-Trekker, D8M-

The crowd is laughing and applauding when Wyatt leaves the stage. I scowl. Call me petty, but I wish he would've fucked it up so that we'd have some lower expectations on us for our interviews. I just hope that the District 7 tributes: or Abigail: fuck it up.

I'm trying to be confident in myself. I'm really trying to be the Trekker I used to be, but it's just so hard. Especially when I know the person I hate is going to be beside me through this whole damn thing. I hate it. I hate him. And he still hasn't apologized.

"Next up we have District 7's Sequoia Koury!" Caesar announces. The District 7 girl pulls her dark ponytail tighter, putting a smile on. She winks at me and gives a glance to Elias in the back as she walks out on the stage. She waves at the crowd, smiling brightly and even touching a few hands that are up waving at her before she sits down next to Caesar. "Welcome Sequoia!"

"Thank you so much!" she says, smiling at him before turning to the crowd. "And thank you so much, for your warm welcome! What a lovely audience we have here!" Complimenting the audience gets her miles, and she beams as more applause rings out for her.

"Well, I think we've found ourselves another crowd favorite! So, Sequoia, tell us, what have you enjoyed about our Capitol?!"

"Well, Caesar, I honestly think that my family would love it here. The atmosphere is what I like overall. I have an amazing view of the city!"

"Yes, we have a beautiful Capitol here, don't we?"

"It's a stark contrast from what I knew before, you see," she says, "Being from 7 in the camps and all. But not a bad one! A good difference! It makes me feel more cultured!"

"More cultured. What a peach!" The crowd applauds. "So, your family, you say? How do you think they'd react?"

"Well let's see. My parents have spent their entire lives in the camps, so they'd just be… Stunned at it. Tara, she's my oldest sister, she would love it. She'd probably want to explore, see every sight possible in the smallest amount of time. And her husband, Pedro, would definitely go with her, and she wouldn't get to go without me of course! My other sister, Roza, she would not stop until people knew her name. She would definitely make it big time in the big city, although she's attached to the outdoors so I'm sure she wouldn't want to live there full time. Hm, then, oh yes. Rex would go _nuts_ here. He's never cared much for the camps, and he's always wanted to have an indoor job in the city. He would love it here, he would be so successful and happy here." The crowd applauds and cheers, and Sequoia smiles.

I admire her for talking about so many of her loved ones without showing any fear or sadness. If and when I talk about Brister, I know I'm going to show the fear that I won't make it home to him. I swallow a lump in my throat nervously.

"Then there's the twins. Mabel would love it, she wants to be a star and live in glamour, and that's exactly what this is. Oh, she'd do so well here as well. Angio would have fun here, but he's attached to the camps too so it'd be hard to pull him away from his work."

"What a dedicated and healthy young family!" Caesar proclaims, causing the crowd to applaud.

"So, you see, I have a lot to get back to. Five siblings, and two other best friends so close they're practically family! This is a shout-out to Moria, who has never left my side, and Celina, who always makes me laugh. Thanks guys!"

The crowd applauds. "Well, you're very well-loved."

"I like to think so. I'm a hard worker that's determined to make it back. I've got a lot riding on it."

"Well, it certainly seems so!" Caesar asks her a few more questions about the Capitol and about home before it's time for the next interview.

"Next up, District 7's Tomer Bayard!"

The boy walks quickly and nervously onto the stage. "

"Welcome Tomer, welcome!" Caesar smiles at him. Tomer doesn't look the interviewer in the eye. "So, how do you like the Capitol?"

Tomer shrugs. "Fine," he says quietly, mumbling into the microphone and jumping at how his voice booms.

"Fine, huh? So, we didn't pass your test?" The crowd laughs, and Tomer just blushes and ducks his head more than it had been already. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Tomer shakes his head. "Good."

"Yeah?" Caesar knows that he's got another challenge in front of him. And Tomer isn't moving. "Well, you have pretty eyes there. Different colors, that happens naturally, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't they nice?" Caesar asks. The crowd applauds weakly in response, not taking to him. "Well, Tomer, I'll ask you a question here, and I want you to consider it carefully before you respond. What is your favorite Capitol food?" The crowd laughs, remembering when Wyatt panicked and said bread.

Part of me hopes Tomer panics and says bread, the other half hopes that he doesn't, as that joke's getting old.

There's a pause before Tomer mutters, "Soup."

"Soup? Bread and soup are the best Capitol foods."

Everyone laughs. Tomer just blushes and stares at the ground, staying quiet through it. I can tell from here that he's uncomfortable, you'd probably have to be blind and deaf to think that he wasn't.

"Well Tomer, do you have a lot to win for?"

The boy nods, biting his lip. He still hasn't cracked.

"How about you tell us about them?"

Tomer's eyes glance up at the cameras and hold a look of pure uncomfortable fear. He just mumbles, "Parents. Sister. Cousin. Friend."

"Care to elaborate?" Caesar asks. Tomer's ears are red as he nervously looks at the cameras. His gaze seems lopsided or unsettling because of his two differently colored eyes, one light hazel and one dark, deep brown. He looks like he wants to speak, but just shrugs nervously.

Caesar continues to try and get him to open up, but unlike Wyatt, Tomer remains awkward and uncomfortable, which makes me relieved because the bar has just totally hit the ground.

"Next up, from District 8, here's Abigail Cabilina!"

My District partner takes a deep breath before she goes out on the stage, looking determined and nervous all at once.

"Welcome Abigail!"

I wonder how this is going to go. My District partner is extremely withdrawn, and she's barely said a word to me. Toward the end of chariots, she got afraid and hid behind me. She's just a scared, quiet, sad little girl. You thought _I_ was angsty, wait until this shitshow starts.

Abigail wordlessly puts up a hand in greeting, her eyes scaling the crowd. She bites her lip, a determined look in her eyes, and buried underneath it, that same miserable look she always has.

"Well, we have another quiet one, hm?"

"It's just… It's a big crowd," she says quietly. I hope this interview explodes into nothing so that I can really steal the show.

I regret thinking it, seeing as this girl is barely older than Brister, but know that if I want to see Brister again, I have to perform well. This is all about him. I'm willing to blind myself to everything to get back to him. He's the only person I felt something for, he's the only person I totally trust and am totally loyal to. I have to get back to him, he depends on having his brother here with him.

"Yes, it is a big crowd. Well, let's start simple then! What do you like about the Capitol?"

"Meat."

"Meat." Caesar laughs and the crowd does the same. "Well then. There you go! Not exactly the answer you'd expect from a 13-year-old girl like yourself, but I guess you can't judge a book by its cover!" The crowd applauds in agreement, and Abigail loses some of the tension in her shoulders at that. I can tell she hasn't been complimented a lot, so the applause of the crowd probably means a lot. "Anything else about the Capitol stand out to you?"

She shrugs. "The size of it all. It's… It's huge." Her words are slightly more confident now, her voice taking on a slightly stronger tone.

"It really is, isn't it? And a little overwhelming."

Abigail just nods in agreement.

"Well then, why don't you tell us about your family?"

"No thanks."

The crowd murmurs. _Oh yes_. "A-Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't care much for them. They leave me to my own devices. They don't bother me, I don't bother them."

"Oh. Well… Right then. That's alright, not all of us have close relationships with our families! How about your friends?"

"No."

"No?"

"I don't have any."

Caesar doesn't know what to say to that. He changes the topic to the Games and leaves it there, but she doesn't totally lose the awkwardness. Suddenly, it's my turn.

"Next up, we've got Trekker Tidwell!" The crowd's weak applause for Abigail turns strong when I walk out on the stage. I try to put on a Trekker smile, waving at the crowd as I walk, but I feel like such a stranger when I do that so I let the act go as I shake Caesar's hand and take a seat.

"Welcome Trekker!"

"Thanks Caesar," I say, sitting up tall and clearing my throat. I try to resurrect the person I was from the dead, someone that would easily let the nation in, someone that would just smile and chatter happily about everything that ever bothered him. I can't be that person anymore, though.

"So, first thing's first." He grins. "A little bird told me that today happens to be someone's 19th birthday!"

I blink in surprise. "Huh?" I count the days on my fingers, the days I've lost track of, the days I've been in and out of, the days I spent numbly counting down my last hours. "Oh. Guess it is."

The crowd immediately energizes even more, applauding and shouting wishes of happy birthday. I can't help but feel like that's ironic as hell.

"Well then! Let's all sing happy birthday!" Cue the loudest: and most off-key: rendition of Happy Birthday I've ever heard in my life. But it eats up time while keeping the crowd happy, so I just sit still and smile awkwardly like I always do when someone sings the song.

When they're done, the crowd burss into cheers. For me? For themselves? I have no clue.

"And, this marks the first time in Games history that there is a 19-year-old in the Arena!" the crowd applauds some more. "Well, you're a record setter!"

"It appears so," I say, smiling.

"So, how does it feel to be 19?"

I laugh a bit. "Just the same as being 18, Caesar."

"Of course! Well then, tell us some of your strengths. Other than the maturity of your years." The crowd laughs, and I manage to laugh with them.

"Well, I have a couple allies, I think. Plus, I've trained hard, and I think I've learned a lot about using weapons and especially about survival. I think that I'm ready." It's a lie, of course. I would never be ready for this. I'd never feel ready to go into a fight to the death. But I keep a façade, as weak as it is.

"Wonderful! And your favorite part of the Capitol?"

Not Bronx. "Hm… I think my favorite part is just the food. Chocolate back home was nothing more than a rare delicacy. But here, I've had it in some form every day."

"Well, you're going to have it some more!" the crowd applauds, and laughs at my expression of shock. "We at the Capitol have spared no expense in making you a triple chocolate birthday cake! It's waiting for you back at your compartment!"

"Oh!" I light up, and when I realize exactly what that means, I do my best not to let my expression fall. "That sounds amazing!"

"We do hope you like it!"

"Oh Caesar, I can't wait!" the crowd applauds some more.

"Well then, why don't you tell me a bit about who you might be celebrating with if you were back in District 8, with a much smaller dessert?"

"My parents. My Dad's a bit of a workaholic, and he's not around a lot. My Mom's the caretaker of the house. I love them a bunch and hope that I can see them more when I get home. Even if I'm 19 I'd want to bring my family to my house in the Village with me. Them, and my little brother Brister. He's 11. He's really the only person I hold close."

"Well, that's still very sweet! Here you have a very dedicated and passionate young man!" The crowd applauds in agreement, and I smile.

"Is there anything you'd like to say to your fans? Or to sponsors perhaps?"

I consider. "I'd just tell them to have faith in me. I've worked hard and I really do want to do this. I want to get home. I believe I can, and when I believe in something, nothing can stop me. Nothing." The crowd applauds at that, and I make myself flash them a bright smile, causing them to applaud even more as my buzzer rings. I breathe a sigh of relief as Caesar introduces me one last time and I leave the stage.

"Next up, we have District 9's Linnea Isenberg!" I take a seat as the little girl goes out on the stage, giving the crowds a smile.

"Welcome Linnea!" Caesar says.

Linnea gives a small giggle. "Thanks Caesar!"

"Please, have a seat." The two of them sit down. "So Linnea, so many questions, so little time! Let's just dive right in! What does Victory mean to you?"

"It means… It means everything. I really want to win the Games, Caesar. I know I have stiff competition, but I also know that I can do it!"

"Strong words, I like it! So, what do you have to win for? What's waiting for Linnea at home?"

"A house in the Village, first of all. That'd be amazing, to be able to treat my parents. And my family, of course. My parents are strict, but they fight for me. They work for me. I don't see them a lot as they're often out, and Mom's pretty stressed, but if I lifted the financial weight from them, they'd be a lot less stressed too. Then I have my friends. My best friend's name is named Daisy, we spend a lot of time together. She introduced me to another friend, Marigold, who accompanies us with these endeavors. Then there's Flora. She's really smart and helpful."

"Well, it sounds like you've got quite a crowd waiting there! It's so nice to see a tribute that is so well-loved, and with parents that are so loyal to their Capitol! Isn't it? The crowd applauds it and the girl smiles, giggling a little bit to hide nerves. "So then, Linnea, what is your favorite part about being here?"

"I really like the air-conditioned buildings!" she says.

"Oh?"

"Yeah! It's hot out there, and back in 9 I lived in a house that was stuffy and had no air conditioning, so being able to escape the heat for a little bit!"

"Well, that's quite an interesting answer, but in the heat of the summer, I can definitely see where you're coming from! So, how about the food? Anything stand out to you?"

"We had some pasta that was shaped like shells. It had some… almond and tomato sauce I think… On it. I ate so much, it was so good."

"Well, that certainly sounds delightful!" The crowd applauds in agreement.

"So, what's the dynamic like between you and your District partner?" Caesar asks, clearly interested. Linnea lets out a nervous giggle.

"Beo and I… We don't really talk. We considered allying at one point, but it just didn't work out." I can tell she's thinking, figuring out how to phrase it wisely. She wouldn't want to humiliate him or bring scorn on him, for fear of him being vengeful. But she couldn't sell herself short. She's going for the neutral approach instead. "We haven't communicated very much, really. Just because we're from the same District doesn't mean we're close."

"So, who are you close with then?"

"I've talked to a few people. I don't want to expose it too early!" The crowd applauds at that, and Linnea just gives a nervous smile and a giggle in response.

Caesar asks her a few questions more about her strengths and strategy before he announces her District partner.

"Next up, here's a truly epic hero, Beowulf Mortimer!"

The District 9 boy, wearing a dark purple suit that brings out the ever-so-slightly purple tint of his black hair, walks out on the stage, a grin spreading across his face at the applause. He looks clean today, his hair neat, his tie tied and his suit neat, unlike his disheveled look at the reapings. He whoops right along with them.

"Welcome Beowulf!"

"Beo, call me Beo!" His voice booms loudly out across the crowd, and he grins. "I know, the cutest nickname of all, am I right?"

"I dunno, I think Torque's a pretty cute one!" The crowd applauds in agreement.

"True, true. And it's a cute nickname too." Beo's grin widens as the crowd bursts into laughs and applause.

"So then, Beo, you seem to have adjusted just fine to the Capitol."

"I was already half there," he says, "Because my family's really well off. Which is only to my advantage."

"Seems to me like you've got a lot of advantages. Might you know how to fight?"

"Ah, well, of course I do. I'm the protagonist, the protagonist is always the hero." The crowd applauds at that.

"So, you're well-educated?"

"You could say that. You could also say that I read: a lot."

"Do you? How interesting! So, what do you read?"

Beo gives him a blank stare. "Books." The crowd bursts into laughter and applause at that, causing Beo to laugh. He has the loudest laugh, even when the microphone is a fair distance away from his mouth, you can still hear his above everyone else's.

"Alright. What's your favorite book then?"

" _Catcher in the Rye_. Real good. And, of course, _Lord of the Flies_. My books will give me the strength I need to get through this."

"Why should we bet on you, Beo?" Caesar asks. "Obviously you seem happy to be here. You're experienced with the fighting aspect. You're well-groomed, well brought up. Yes?"

"Caesar, those things are all true of course. But really, it's as simple as this: I'm the protagonist. I'm the hero. And the hero always wins."

"So, every good hero has a heroine waiting for them. Does this one?" The crowd "ooooo"s at that.

"I do, Caesar. But… I did him wrong. He's kinda touchy, so let's just say that getting home is the easy part." The crowd bursts out laughing at that.

"Well, surely nobody can resist a Victor. You get home and shower him with gifts and surely things'll go over smoothly."

"It's not that easy. But we'll see."

"Indeed we will. Wanna make a shout-out to him right now?"

"I have nothing to say. Or, at least, nothing to say on national TV."

The crowd sinks, disappointed. "Well, surely when you win, we'll be able to see him and make sure he's treating you right!" the crowd applauds, and Beo just nods a little bit, swallowing hard.

Caesar asks him a bit about his family and training before Beo's buzzer rings and Caesar announces the next tribute.

"Next up, a southern bell from District 10, give it up for Lindsay Halter!" Lindsay walks out on the stage, frowning and biting her lip nervously.

"Welcome Lindsay!"

"Thanks," she mutters. She seems really tense and awkward.

"So, why don't you start by telling us something about yourself? Maybe a hobby you have?"

Lindsay shifts uncomfortably. "I can whistle. I can braid hair."

"Those sound like some good hobbies! So, were you impressed by our stylists here at the Capitol?"

"Yeah," she says quietly.

"Well Lindsay, what else have you liked about the Capitol?"

There's a second of pause before she responds. "The dogs."

The crowd starts to applaud.

"The dogs? We certainly have some stylish pooches around here, don't we?"

"You do." She seems to be relaxing. "I love dogs. I love animals of all kinds, really, but especially dogs. Seeing them reminds me of home. I haven't gotten to pet any dogs here, though."

"Anyone have a dog here that this young woman can pet!?" Caesar asks, and the crowd starts to laugh. Lindsay's frown breaks into a small smile, that only turns to shock as a small purse with a tiny, hairy brown dog with bows by its ears is passed forward. Caesar takes it, looking surprised himself. "Well then, I guess, once again, my audience has surprised me." The crowd applauds as Lindsay takes the bag, cooing at the dog and stroking it happily.

"What a sweet puppy," Lindsay coos.

"Well, I see a happy tribute now. Why don't you tell us about your family?"

Lindsay stops cooing but doesn't stop smiling at the dog. "I have two parents and a 17-year-old brother named Darrow. They're alright." She coos at the dog, who licks her hands and arms, causing the girl to giggle.

"You seem to enjoy this dog more than them."

"They didn't like me nearly as much as this dog does." The crowd laughs. Lindsay grins.

"How about friends?"

"Oh, I love my friends!" she smiles, abandoning cooing at the dog to talk about her friends. "Dari is the most passionate of us, she refuses to get stepped on. Lillie is sweetest person in the whole world, and she's a really good hugger. Then there's Ella, who's so kind and thoughtful and generous."

"They sound like sweethearts." Caesar asks her a couple more questions about her relationship with her allies and her love of animals before the dog is passed back to its owner and Lindsay's interview is over.

"Next up, from District 10, Hartwin McCoy!"

The 10 boy walks out on the stage, looking like he could care less to be there. The crowd quiets, unsure what to make of him. The first few questions Caesar asks draw shrugs and one-word answers from him, and I can see the crowd shutting off on him. His interview doesn't really pick up until the end.

"Did you have any food you'd like to have again?" Caesar asks, seeming desperate to get him to answer something.

There's a pause, and something seems to happen to his disposition, some kind of change. "Chocolate cheesecake." There's a pause as the crowd starts to react to him again. He shifts awkwardly. "It was really good."

"Yeah?" Caesar seems to release some tension. "So, back to the Games. Why should sponsors not count you out?"

"I'm strong. I worked a lot back home, a lot of heavy work for long days in the beating sun of the summer and the frigid cold of the winter. In training, I didn't stop working. I taught myself how to use a knife, and I've gotten good. I keep getting better and better with practice."

"Well, there you have it with that! Surely we'd be dumb to overlook you! How about your home life? Earlier you said that you have parents and two sisters? Tell me about them."

"My Dad's a lot like me. My Mom's really outgoing and very social, and she cares a lot. One of my younger sisters is 15, her name's Court. She's a lot like me, a lot like Dad. The youngest is Mia at 8, who's chattier like my mom. I care the world for them though. And, my best friend Mona's like family, too. She makes me totally comfortable."

"Wow, you certainly have a lot riding on this, don't you!?"

"I do. More than you know. More than you think."

Caesar looks like he's loving the mysterious-ness of it all and doesn't press him, especially seeing as he only had enough time to conclude the interview before the buzzer would ring.

"Everyone, Hartwin McCoy!" the crowd applauds as he walks off of the stage.

"Next up, we have District 11's Amaryllis Kendall!" The crowd keeps applauding as the girl from 11 walks on the stage.

"Welcome Amaryllis."

"Call me Amy, please!"

"Do all these tributes have adorable nicknames or what?!" Caesar asks, causing the crowd to laugh and applaud. "Well, Amy, we've heard from both of your allies already, but not you. How are you feeling?"

"A little bit overwhelmed, but really not bad!" she says, seeming bubbly and light.

"That's good for you! The crowd can be a little bit intimidating, huh? Not to mention the cameras. You're doing wonderfully!"

The crowd applauds and Amy says, "Thanks." She gives a brief grin. "At least I haven't said bread yet." That gets the crowd to laugh, and with that Amy releases any lingering tension she might have been holding.

"Well Amy, what did you do back home in 11?"

"I worked. My parents and I both worked days and nights to get food for the family."

"Do you have a large family?"

"Oh, not really. Just my two parents, me, and my little sister Chrissy. She's 7. I love you so much Chrissy! I'm gonna make it home to you soon!"

"You seem pretty confident about that."

"I… I can hope. I have high aspirations for myself and have always shot for my dreams. I want to make a difference in the world, and as a Victor that's just what I could do."

"Wow, an inspiration already! So, why don't you tell us about your friends back home?"

"Oh, of course. My best friend's name is Rose. She and I do most everything together. Her little brother Jay is one year younger than her, so he hangs around with us a lot and he's really a good guy. I love you two! Keep being strong, I'll be back in a jiff!"

She's had a total personality change from the waterworks when she was reaped, or how quiet and withdrawn she was during training. She and Lindsay were helpless without Isa there. I know it's easy to act, but it's still a surprise.

Caesar asks her some more about the Capitol and the Games before her buzzer rings out.

"Next up, District 11's Elias Wilder!"

The crowd applauds as he walks out on the stage, looking nervous.

"Welcome Elias, so nice to see you."

"Thanks Caesar," he says, smiling politely.

"So, you weren't the first of your family tree to step foot on this stage, were you?"

"No." He sounds like he's restricting himself from saying more.

"Indeed, you're related, albeit distantly, to a Victor! Donavan Osten, of the 39th Games, correct?" The crowd applauds at the reminder of the Victor.

"That's right."

"And, of course, his sister Krissa of the 36th Games. She was not nearly so lucky, though, was she?"

"No, she wasn't. I don't remember her very well, though."

"But, of a closer relative and a closer time, of course, last year's female tribute from your District, Tierra Morrison." The crowd murmurs, not remembering her. I can't even form a picture of the girl in my head. "She died earlier, though, didn't she?"

"That's right," Elias says.

"But, even if those two lost, you do share blood with a Victor. That's the part that matters, of course."

"Of course," he says quietly. I can't believe Caesar's drilling him like this, if he'd asked me a thing about Bronx I wouldn't flipped shit. Elias, though deflated, remains cool.

"So, why should we refuse to count you out?"

"I never go into things without a plan, Caesar, this is no exception. There have been Victors that have won with their incredible brains, and I want to be one of them. I know I have the capabilities, as long as things go according to plan. And if not, I can make a Plan B in the blink of an eye."

"Well, I look forward to seeing it." The crowd applauds in agreement. "So, what is your favorite food you've had here?"

Elias finally smiles, a grin. "Oh, definitely the bacon. Anything with bacon in it."

The crowd applauds wildly at that answer. "The bacon! Sounds delicious right about now, doesn't it?" That gets the crowd to respond even more dramatically. Caesar asks him a few more questions about his living family and friends and the Capitol before his buzzer rings.

"Next up, from District 12, here's Monterey Kaminiska!"

The girl skips out on the stage, her long braid flopping behind her as she goes. She wears a pale yellow dress that brings out the contrast against her olive skin, and has a little gardener's hat on her head. She looks adorable, like you want to scoop her up and adopt her.

"Welcome Monterey!"

"Oh, I have a nickname now! It's Simon! Call me Simon!"

Caesar looks genuinely confused. "S-Simon?"

"Yes! That's what Jack calls me!"

"Jack? Who's that?"

"Beo! He said I should call him Jack!"

"Oh, really? How very interesting? Did he tell you why?"

"No! I like having a nickname though!"

"Well, it's certainly… Very… Interesting…"

"I love it!" Monterey gets up to bounce and twirl around happily.

"Well, Monterey, you're certainly not the usual tribute from District 12. What makes you different?"

"I'm not afraid of clowns!" the crowd goes silent in a flash. I feel the pettiest grin ever spread across my face.

"E-Excuse me?"

"A lot of tributes are afraid of the clowns, so they don't enjoy the circus." The sad part is, she doesn't even know why what she's saying is going to be the reason for her death.

"The… Circus?"

"Yes! I want to be the Ringmaster!" she says, causing the crowd to murmur, not sure what to make of her.

"You want to be a ringmaster? What brought this about?"

"I was reaped into the circus of course! I don't have a good act, but I'd like to be the ringmaster! District 12's only ever had one ringmaster!"

Caesar gives the camera a look, and the audience starts to laugh. They laugh loudly and don't stop. My heart breaks for the poor girl. She has no idea how malicious they're being. How condescending. They're laughing at her, and she has no idea.

"Well, what kind of family do you have?"

"Oh, well, my friends are here. Can't you see them?" She points to her left. "Here's Paul, he's blind." She points behind her. "Then there's Auntie Mabel, she gives me advice and makes me be nice when I don't want to be." She points diagonal back, next to 'Auntie Mabel.' "That's Ali. She said I'm too pretty to be a clown, I have to be the ringmaster." She points to her right. "That's Abcde. She helps me with school."

"Oh… Yes…" Caesar has no idea what to do with her. The crowd's still laughing, laughing at her, laughing at how pathetic she is and how naïve.

She doesn't know what's happening.

They think it's funny.

It breaks my heart.

The interview continues in the same way before her buzzer rings. The crowd is still laughing as they applaud, but Monterey cheerfully skips off the stage, oblivious.

"Next up, our last tribute of the night, District 12's Aaron Pithland!"

He walks on the stage slowly, his face already looking bored.

"Welcome Aaron!"

"Thanks." His voice is devoid of all energy, all emotion. Caesar immediately knows that he's going to be a challenge. He sucks the life out of things, almost.

"So, how have you settled in?"

Aaron shrugs.

"The Capitol is different from District 12, huh?"

Aaron shrugs again, not budging. This kid won't even give yes or no answers, just shrugging.

"Well, tell us something about yourself, Aaron. Maybe a hobby you have?"

Aaron shrugs again. "Don't have any."

"Well… How about your favorite food?"

He's waiting for Aaron to make another crack at Wyatt for a laugh from the audience, like Lindsay did. He doesn't, though. He just shrugs. "Eh."

"You're hard to crack, aren't you?"

He shrugs again. "Yeah, sure."

"Well, I think we're all interested: what's your relationship with your District partner?"

Aaron shrugs. "We share a home."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Meh." The crowd laughs, but Caesar is starting to lose his patience. Aaron keeps a totally straight face on, and doesn't even seem nervous. He doesn't even care.

Hartwin acted like this towards the beginning of his interview, but eventually Caesar did get him to relax and crack and make a statement about something. It seems that Aaron has just thrown all caution to the wind, accepted death, and refused to give Caesar anything better than passive answers.

"Well, Aaron, do you have any allies?"

"Eh. Nah. Maybe."

"You didn't give us a clear answer there!" Caesar laughs nervously.

Aaron shrugs.

"Well, how about your friends?"

Aaron shrugs. "Don't have any."

"Family?"

"Don't care."

This kid is stubborn as hell. Nothing Caesar says is going to make him care about having a good interview. I think Caesar knows this and continues the interview asking simple questions, a kind of defeated feeling in his posture.

It's a relief to me when Caesar finishes the outro and interviews are over, but I know that the worst is yet to come.

~.~.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

And by that, I mean that this is the worst birthday _ever_.

After interviews, I sit up on the eighth floor of the Tribute Center. The cake is delicious, but that's the only positive.

I'm spending my 19th birthday with a Capitolite, a girl that probably wants me dead, the crabbiest Victor I've ever seen in my life, and the one person I hate more than _anyone_.

"Everyone loved you Trekker!" Maximus says, shoveling cake into his mouth. "You did so well!"

I can feel Abigail's jealousy from here. The poor girl's in her awkward years, just figuring everything out. Pretty soon Brister will be in the same position as she is in now. Hopefully he'll still have so many friends. Hopefully he'll still have family, hopefully he'll still have me.

The cake doesn't look so appetizing now.

Abigail eats a healthy piece of cake, but she keeps her eyes on the table. An Avox with black curly hair comes around to take my plates, her dark eyes still trained on Bronx, who makes a face at her. Every once in a while, Ritter Pyle, who is serving as Abigail's mentor, will sign something, causing him and Bronx to titter with laughter. Each time they do it I get more and more antsy. I'm sure the jackasses are laughing at me. I hate them. I hate Bronx, of course, and I hate Ritter by association.

"Don't be rude, you two!" Maximus scolds, causing Ritter to sign something else and both of them to laugh louder. I scowl and glare at both of them.

"You'd be laughing too if you only knew, Tidwell." I scowl at him. I don't want him to try and use his charm on me. I want him to apologize for ruining my trust. But, of course, he won't. He won't be sorry. He isn't sorry for what he did to me. He doesn't understand, nobody understands. Nobody understands how one day I was so well-liked, one day I always had a smile on, the next, nobody could come near me without me drawing away. Everything changed. He lied to me all the time, every day. How am I supposed to trust anyone after that?

Abigail finishes her cake, then quickly stands up. "Night," she says, quickly going to her room.

I get up, ready to go, but Maximus outbursts. "You can't leave yet! You're the birthday boy!"

I growl but lower myself back onto the seat, getting another piece of cake because I can and it's delicious. It's the only thing keeping me from lunging at Bronx and punching him straight in the face. We stay quiet for a while before Bronx finishes his cake, moving his plate to put his feet on the table, causing Maximus to scold him.

"Good stuff. I like this cake, why don't I get it on my birthday?"

"Because your birthday isn't during the Games!" Maximus says, as if it's a great thing.

"Yeah, lucky me," I mutter. "I get to be fattened up by cake like a pig before slaughter."

Bronx snorts. "Look, Tidwell, you're not dead yet. I was reaped to die, after all, but Solitaire Chiarella sucks bitch at killing people."

I feel a wave of hurt crash on me. I remember a time when I found his inability to swear endearing, adorable, even. Back when I loved him. He may not have loved me, even if he said he did, but I truly loved him. I told him everything. I told him things I hadn't even told Brister.

"Just let me help you out. Without my mentor, I wouldn't be here."

Ritter bumps his shoulder with squeaky laughter, signing something I don't understand.

"Stop doing that," I say irritably.

"He's not being rude this time though," Bronx says. I wish I knew how to sign, because I don't trust him.

"Why should I believe _you_ of all people?" I ask Bronx, scowling. "Have you ever told me the truth about _anything_?" I can't stop myself from scowling.

He sighs. "Whomp, there it is. Can't you even go ten minutes without yelling at me?"

"No! I can't! You hurt me, Bronx!"

He takes a breath. "I'm not doing this right now. Please, just let me mentor you."

"No!" I get up, scowling at him. "I can't trust you, I can't trust anyone! And it's all your fault!" I push my chair in and walk to my room, stomach churning with negative feelings. I wish he'd apologize, or at least realize how much this meant to mean as compared to how much it was to him. It was different.

I change into my PJs and climb into bed, still scowling and feeling like I might cry. I know I can't, I can't afford to… But I can't help it.

I wait, hoping that maybe he'll come back.

But I know that, once again, I got my hopes up unrealistically high.

Just like last time this happened, he still doesn't show.

 _Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me._

I know I need to shut down, refuse to let anyone else in. My interview made me soft, but that's the last thing I need right now.

I close my eyes and go to sleep, hoping that when I wake up tomorrow, I'll be out for blood.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Yay! Another chapter! So, I want to get into the Games by the 25**_ _ **th**_ _ **, so I have one more chapter from Monterey's POV to do before the Games, but if I don't find the time then I'll probably just skip it and be straight in the Games without it. So basically, if there's another chapter within the next four days, it'll be Monty, if not, then the first chapter will be in the Arena. I'm so glad to achieve the goal I had though! I can't wait for what's next!**_

 _ **Ritter still isn't mine, think so much to Wetstar for letting me use him!**_

 _ **Thanks for all the support up until this point. It's appreciated more than you'd ever know!**_

 _ **Oh, another thing: there's a poll up with all the tributes so you can choose 4 tributes that are your favorites. That could affect how things happen in the Arena, so please vote! I'd love to see your input!**_

 _ **That's all from me I think! Hope you all have lovely days!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Same as last chapter: Did any of the interviews make you laugh or smile? Which ones or which lines?**_


	13. The Night Before

On the first floor of the Tribute Center, Whimsy Chandler was ready for bed. She was excited and nervous, knowing that her big day of glory was right around the corner and she would really have to prove what she was worth. She had a golden unicorn on her bedside table, waiting to be taken in her pocket the next day. It reminded her of her family, her friends, who were waiting at home for her. She wouldn't want to forget them now of all times.

Alma Riduanda was also awake, though drifting, recounting his interview and his competition, trying to think of any last minute details that could help him in the Games. His token, an old, black and white picture of himself with his best friends Regal and Cheshire, was waiting to be kept in his pocket, always there to remind him of how high the stakes were and what he had to make it home to. He knew that it was up to fate now, he just had to play his cards right.

On the second floor, Bellona Stellar was thinking about her friends at home. She knew that Nikolai was mad when she said she was going to volunteer, after the loss of his best friend Fabian was so fresh from last year. Bellona knew this was right, though. She needed to prove herself. She needed to avenge him, as well. There were so many reasons why she needed this. And now they were all keeping her awake at night. She knew that she needed to be rested well, but there was still a nervousness about her. She closed her eyes, trying to remain at peace.

Across from her, Ezie Bond was sitting awake, staring at the ceiling. This was just another day, another day using what he'd learned training, another day like any other. He had trouble getting excited about it, and yet he had trouble being nervous. He just faced the day like he would any other, knowing that losing his cool wouldn't solve much of anything. However, something was unusual about his time here, and that was a girl from District 4 he had spent his time with. He liked her, a lot, but knew the feeling was unwelcome in a time and a place like this. He could only leave it up to fate and see how things play out.

On the third floor, Winchester Barton was sleeping soundly, knowing that his interview had gone about as well as he could've hoped and staying awake wasn't going to help anything. On his bedside table was his token: a dried and pressed lily he got from his sister Giga. Even though he and his sisters butted heads, he couldn't imagine dying, he was loyal to them. He also had to get back to his best friend Leaf, who was depending, waiting on him. He knew there was a lot at stake and decided to get his rest.

Sondra Sagacious was outside on the balcony. She despaired at not getting a great view of the city, but seeing the nightlife, the moving cars, the walking people, the lights, was calming to her. She knew she'd made a very strong ally, and planned to hide behind him for a while until she could take out some of the competition and leave. She was ready to manipulate, she had to do whatever it took to make it back to District 3 alive instead of a body in a wooden box.

One floor up, Tempest La Rossa was still awake. She was wrapped in blankets and sitting out on the balcony, feeling the wind on her face and trying to make herself tired. She was overwhelmed by emotions: nervousness, excitement, determination… And, deep down, this conflict. She had to spend her time in the Arena with arguably the most fun person she'd ever met, and he would have to die for her to live. That bothered her. She knew deep down that she was being kept awake by that exact emotion. It was unsettling and made her stomach turn, and she couldn't stop it. She knew she couldn't die, but… She also knew she was in for a wave of hurt sooner or later. She was going to take a golden hairpiece in the Arena with her, as a reminder that victory was the only way, but… At what cost?

There was something that Branden Kendler was keeping a secret. But it kept him awake at night. Those green eyes, smiling at him, that brown hair, smooth skin, thin frame… His heart was aching for home, for his best friend, for the love of his life. He had to get back. He had to set things straight. He just had to. He couldn't imagine having done all of this and never see him again. He needed Brennan, he needed him here. He couldn't sleep. His plan to get buddy-buddy with his District partner to make her follow his wishes didn't work nearly as well as he'd hoped, with the boy from District 2 quickly coming in and winning her trust instead. He wondered if there was something about her, some reason that she saw through him. Maybe she just wasn't interested. But Branden knew that Tempest was hard to tame, and somehow Ezie had done what he hadn't managed to. It didn't ruin Branden's chances, not at all, but it could've been valuable to him.

On the fifth floor, Static still wasn't sure whether or not she should tell Torque about her plan. She liked them a lot, and the two of them had gotten close, almost dangerously close, over the course of the week. They were just a type of person that Static liked, and respected, and got along with. They'd danced around the idea of allying together, but Static didn't want anyone to know about her plan unless it was a sure thing. She sat out on the balcony, her legs between the rails, feet dangling. She knew she'd be caught if she fell, but that didn't stop her stomach from flipping when she looked straight down. She just looked out at the lights, thinking about her best friend Faraday and her brother Arc more than anyone. And punching that asshole Roxul in the face, too.

Torque was wrapped up in blankets. They were going to go out on the balcony, but when they saw Static there, decided against it. They knew that as well as they liked the girl and hoped she would go far, she still had to die if they wanted to make it back to their sisters. Ree _needed_ her older sibling. Her health depended on whether or not Torque came home. It was a lot of pressure to put on a 16-year-old. Torque still felt like a kid themself, and here they were, the life of a 9-year-old in their hands. Could Fiona and Kyria even handle losing two siblings within a matter of weeks, maybe even days? Could the Nawrocki parents? Torque didn't want to find out. But, if they didn't win, Static was really their only hope to save Ree. They liked her, they liked her a damn lot, but they were loyal to their family and friends. They knew that even if they did ally together, for the sake of both of their hearts, they should separate early. Torque wrapped their fist around the gold coin Jost gave them after the reaping and took a deep breath, laying down and trying to get some rest.

One floor up. Isa Garza was half asleep. She just couldn't seem to get the whole way there. She was afraid, though she had too much pride to admit it. She always told herself that she had faith in Lindsay and Amy, but the truth was that she could see that they weren't willing to change who they were. Isa had her family at home. Her parents had always wanted a baby girl, and after three boys finally got one. She hated the thought that she could just be gone. She had seen at least one 15-year-old win. It wasn't unheard of. She just had to keep on having faith and confidence in herself. She knew she'd scored well compared to the others, even compared to her District partner. She wasn't out yet. She was just afraid because of the connection she'd started to feel to Lindsay especially, and Amy too. It was becoming personal, not just allies, but friends. Isa knew she couldn't afford that. She also knew that it was too late.

Wyatt Calistro was kicking himself. He hadn't brought a token, and now he was starting to regret it. His heart ached for home, for his best friend Sid, for his siblings, for his mother. He was even starting to ache for that asshole Mack, just to hear him tease them and then hear Sid talk about his ass was all Wyatt wanted. He just wanted to be back with his friends and family. He just wanted to hold his brother Stanton close, and kiss his sister Elise's head before school. He wanted to work, to spend long days away from home at the factories for little or no pay, all he wanted was to be back home in District 6 and not here. He knew that things were going against him right now, but there have been more unlikely Victors than him in the past. He just needed to keep going, keep staying positive. He tried to get some sleep.

On the seventh floor, Sequoia Koury was sleeping. She knew she had to control the friendly, kind part of herself. She knew she had a good shot, as long as she didn't get overconfident and kept on going. She knew that as long as she didn't get attached, she could make it back. She had a lot to get back to. Living in the camps and taking care of five kids was next to impossible. She missed her sister Tara, who moved out when she got married. She wanted to be able to see them more. She didn't want to be in the Games, but now that she was she knew she just had to make do and keep going.

Tomer Bayard was begging with the sandman to just let him sleep. He knew that without sleep he didn't have a proper chance, but he also knew that he was horrified. He wasn't a killer, he wasn't fit for the Games. His interview had proven that. He hated the Capitolites and they made him constantly uncomfortable, and he wasn't sure if he'd rather die or be a celebrity. He knew that he owed it to his parents, sister, and his step-cousin Nash to get home. They had done so much for him. That's why his token was a picture he drew of them together. He had to be reminded of his home, of his family. They're the only thing that's kept him going for so long, after all. He owed it to them to try, at least.

On the eighth floor, Abigail Cabalina knew she did her very best. She tried to learn. She tried to branch out. The Games were scary, of course, especially to a 12-year-old girl from District 8. She had no motivation to keep going, really. When Ritter had pushed her and tried to get her to list her friends, her family, any reason to keep living, she couldn't think of anything. She liked the outdoors. She wanted a second chance. But she wasn't ready for the baggage that came with being a Victor. Ritter really did everything he could, but she knew it was pointless. She was bound to die, and no one would miss her if she did. It was the painful truth.

Trekker Tidwell was still brooding. Part of him knew he was being ridiculous, stupid, even. Bronx really wanted to mentor him, to at least try to help him succeed. Maybe as a way of making it up to him, maybe just because that was his job. Trekker didn't care. He knew that this hatred of Bronx could cause his death, but he didn't care. Nobody tried to understand his pain. They wrote him off as a whiny bitch. It hurt Trekker, on top of the hurt he was already feeling after what happened. Brister was one of the few people that never judged him, that just let him be hurt. Trekker was just glad to be alone after everything. He'd eaten far too much cake and now his stomach was complaining. He rolled over to lay on it, closing his eyes, desperate to be anywhere but there as he drifted to sleep.

Linnea was terrified. She knew that her Arena was going to be bloody, they had eight serious Careers, and Beo was getting more and more morbid by the second. They were all desperate to get home. Linnea knew she was weak, and she spent a lot of her time begging for help from others. Even if Linnea knew she was weak, though, she wasn't blind. She knew that allying with Beo was a bad idea. Even if he was stronger than her, she knew he was going to be out for blood. She knew to stay away from him. Instead she made friends with other tributes, and depending on who was near her when they got there, she'd find a group to tag along with. It wasn't the most stable strategy, but it was probably the smartest. She knew that it was up to fate, and tried to fall asleep.

Beo was just as terrified. He stayed awake, a flashlight on, reading. "Kill the pig, cut his throat, kill the pig, bash him in…" he muttered it like a mantra. Beo crossed his arm across his chest and felt his heart pounding. He felt wrong for being scared. After all, in all the books he ever read, the protagonist never showed fear. The cowards died. The hero was so passionate that death didn't matter. He didn't feel that way now. He was afraid. He was afraid of what was going to happen to him, he was afraid that he was too weak, not good enough to make it home. And, deep down, he was afraid that when he got home, Nik wouldn't want to see him. He wouldn't admit that, though. Beo flipped the page of the book, drinking in every word and doing everything he could to become the murderous boy on the page in front of him. He knew that there was no going back now. It was what he had to do to get back.

One floor up, Lindsay was sleeping. She had been exhausted after her interview, and irritable enough to leave without having any dessert. She wasn't ready for this, but she knew she'd never be. She knew she'd never be the kind of ally Isa wanted her to be. She knew that even if Isa told her she could do it, both of them knew she couldn't. She wasn't as mad at Hartwin anymore after his interview, but she still couldn't help but feel frustrated that there were so many tributes that were just as deserving as she was. She valued their lives. Each one. More than they would ever know. She valued her own, as well, but… She knew that she couldn't hold onto it while so many precious people around her were dying. And she hated herself for it.

Hartwin McCoy was angry too. He was just better at hiding it. Truth was that from the second he was reaped, he was mad. He was angry at the Capitol for doing this to him, doing this to teenagers from the Districts. He was mad at the Games. Wasn't 42 years enough to prove their point? Those that lived through the Dark Days are scarce, either too old to understand what was going on, or dead. He didn't understand why this horror show kept happening. He was mad that he had to go into an Arena with a 15-year-old girl, a girl who was scared, who was sweet and polite, who had good intentions with everything she did. They didn't deserve this. Hartwin was mad. He knew he had to play along if he ever wanted to see his family again, if he ever wanted to see Mona again, and Leary. Oh God, Leary. Leary had no idea how deeply Hartwin cared. He may never. Hartwin knew he had to keep his head down and play by their rules. But he was still mad. He didn't deserve this. Lindsay didn't deserve this. None of them did.

On the eleventh floor, Elias Wilder was thinking about his cousin Tierra. Nobody remembered her because she died on the first day of her Games. But she had family at home. Family that cared a lot about her. Even though Elias was a closed book to most everyone, her included, even though they barely talked and rarely saw each other, they were still family. That still meant something. Now, he had nothing but his brains to rely on. He thought about Victors like Beetee Latier, who had won because of brains and strategy. He wanted to be like them. That was the only choice he had now, anyways. He couldn't get along with his mentor Donavan, even if they were related Elias was still shocked and upset that he was being taught by someone that had been so violent in their Games. It made him sick to his stomach. He laid down and closed his eyes, knowing that the morning would come and he'd have to fight. He just tried to get some sleep in the meantime.

Amy Kendall was awake, too. She was wondering how her parents were going to explain to her seven-year-old sister why her older sister was killing people on the television. Chrissy knew what death was, she was old enough for that, but she wasn't exactly old enough to fully understand the moral gray area that came with the Games. She hated Victors because they were killers. Amy wasn't sure how they'd approach explaining that Amy did what she had to do. Amy was scared, she had always been easily spooked, and this had just destroyed her emotional state. She spent almost every night in tears, and this was no exception. She knew that she had so much riding on this, but she wasn't ready. She wasn't a killer. She wasn't fit to take a life. She just couldn't do it. It wasn't who she was. She couldn't change that. She knew that she was holding Lindsay and Isa back, but she couldn't make herself into someone like that. She knew that she had to do her best, but she knew that her best wasn't enough. A dry pressed amaryllis flower laid on her bedside table, waiting for the coming of day. Amy decided she should try to sleep.

The Games were coming, and they were coming fast. In twenty-four hours, the tributes knew that they could possibly be dead. They had a long night ahead of them.

But nobody was in for quite as long a night as the pair from District 12…

~.~.

-Monterey, D12F-

The man called our mentor didn't spend a lot of time talking to us before going to bed, but I sit at the table with the zombie and the clown, swinging my feet happily and eating some dessert that's been left out for us.

The zombie is currently being nagged by the clown about his interview. She keeps on talking, even though the zombie's not paying attention, probably thinking about brains instead. I doubt he'd find much in the clown's head though.

Finally, the zombie gets up. "I'm going to bed," he says, turning and leaving.

"Yes, you should be getting to bed Monterey. The Games start tomorrow."

The circus starts tomorrow!? I feel so unprepared, we haven't even had a dress rehearsal! I suppose that's the nature of the beast.

"I'm so excited for tomorrow!" I say happily, jumping down from my chair and twirling around in my dress. "I can't wait to see all the acts perform, finally! Ezie hasn't touched a chainsaw since we got here, and I haven't seen any tigers!"

The clown turns to me.

"Uh oh, she looks mad," Auntie Mabel says.

"You incompetent, _insane_ little girl!" she says, raising her voice angrily. "Don't you have any idea what's going to happen to you tomorrow!? It's not a circus! It's not a show! It's the Hunger Games! You're going to have to fight to the death! If you want to keep breathing you're going to have to kill people!" She shakes me by the shoulders, by now yelling and screaming. "You're going to have to kill your morals, forget everything except for your instincts and your brain! There's no room for imagination or games anymore! Don't you want to keep living, you _miserable_ child?!" I feel a sting as her hand hits me across the fact. "Give up the Games!"

The pain causes my eyes to well up with tears. Why is she doing this!?

"Please let me go," I choke out, voice quivering. She lets go of me and I turn and run to my room as fast as I can.

I throw my PJ's on as the sting fades, trying desperately to keep it together. I climb on my bed quickly.

"Paul?" I ask, my voice quiet. Every time I had a bad day I knew my friends would be there for me at the end of it all. "Auntie Mabel?"

I look around, but in front of me all I see is a boy my age with dark hair, dark eyes, and a spear with a red-feathered tip.

"Go away!" I tell Zeke, the savage. He knows he's not welcome with me.

"I'm not going anywhere, Monterey. You know you need me. These guys will no longer be of use."

When I look around, I see my friends, all of them tied up.

"Let them go!" I shout at him. "Let my friends go!"

"They're not welcome here anymore," he says, a smile spreading across his face as he takes Auntie Mabel by the ropes tied around her wrists. He forces the old lady to her knees and puts the spear to her neck, pressing it in.

"No! Leave her alone!" I shriek, tears blurring my vision. "Leave her be! She never did anything to anyone!"

"Help me!" chokes Auntie Mabel. I hear Ali and Saul screaming, crying for help, for anyone to do anything. I try to go to her, but I'm paralyzed in fear.

"If you move, you'll be dead," the Savage promises, the sharp tip of his spear, covered in blood that drips off, pointing at me.

"Save yourself, Monterey! I'm old and have lived a very long time, you're young and have a lot of life left ahead of you." I let out a sob as the Savage thrusts his spear through her back, and the lady collapses, blood puddling around her, face still set in death.

"AUNTIE MABEL!" I scream desperately, my own scream meshing with those of Saul and Ali. "Abcde, please!" I beg her, tears rolling down my cheeks, "Please help her! Please, you know she's not done anything wrong!"

"It's too late now, Monterey," she says quietly, voice devoid of all emotion.

I touch a hand to the cheek that Marguerite slapped, not hurting anymore but instead stained with tears.

"Please," I gasp. "Auntie Mabel…" She doesn't move. Meanwhile, the Savage takes Ali next, throwing her onto the ground and causing her to cry out.

"Don't touch her! Please!" I cry out desperately. "She's harmless!"

"You heard what the lady said, Monterey. I'm doing this for your own good."

"Ali! Please! She's only 18! She still has a lot of time, she's not old!" I sob and curl up into a ball. "Spare her, please!"

"I'll be alright, Monterey!" she says, but I hear her sobbing through the words. She shrieks as the Savage brings his spear down on her, too, collapsing. Her blue eyes are still open, set in an expression of shock. I howl with sobs, rocking back and forth.

"Ali!" I know it's too late for her. I try to think of the memories we had, talking about how pretty Static was in person, talking about how adorable everyone was, but I can't pull any of them to my head. They're gone, just as dead as she is.

The savage isn't done there, though.

"Please… Please not Saul…" by now I've stopped screaming, lowered my voice to a low, quiet mutter. "Please."

"He's not your brains, he's not your instincts. He means nothing."

"Please!" I fold my hands and beg. "Please. Not him. I need him. I'm not Monterey without him."

"You can't be Monterey," he says, not even bothering to clean the crimson blood of Ali and Auntie Mable off before he forces Paul to his knees. Paul keeps his eyes on the ground, looking defeated.

"Please…" I sob quietly. "Keep him alive… Please, I'll do anything."

The savage locks eyes with me, his eyes mysteriously warm and brown. "I'm doing this for your own good, Monterey. I'm doing this for you."

He's grinning anyways, though.

"I'm so sorry Saul…" I say quietly, my voice barely above a whimper.

"It's for your own good Monterey," Saul says quietly, but I can tell he's afraid. I'm afraid too. "We'll be alright. You just keep on fighting the good fi-" his speech is cut off with a scream as the Savage plunges the spear into his back. Blood spurts out of the wound and I yell again, screaming, desperately pleading for him to wake up, knowing that he's gone forever and things will never be the same again.

"You're horrible and sick," I say, sobbing and quivering, curled up into a little ball of Monterey. "They did nothing. They were the best parts of me."

"They were only in the way." He takes Abcde's hands, who looks emotionless and unregretful. "Your brains and your instincts. Those are what matters."

"You killed them!" I spit out at him, burying my face in my knees and letting out some more sobs. I'm scared, I'm afraid, and now, I'm alone too.

I hear a knock on the door and get up, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders to answer it. It's Aaron.

"Hey… Are you alright? You were screaming…"

"I…" I want to tell him what happened, but stop short when the Savage starts to speak.

"He's no use to you, Monterey. You can't care about him now. Slam the door in his face."

No one's there to tell me not to, so that's what I do, letting out another sob. I lost three of my best friends, they were murdered in front of my eyes. They're still laying in puddles of blood, faces set in agony and shock, and their blood is on the red-feathered spear of the savage.

I curl up in bed, bringing the blankets tight around me and letting out sobs into my pillow.

I don't know who I'm going to be when I wake up in the morning, but I do know that they're going to be very different than Monterey Kaminiska.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: I DID IT! Here you go! I stayed up too late doing this. So, just letting you know that it might be a while before I get the bloodbath out. After all, I'm gonna go to college, and I dunno what to expect. And if I get writing time during welcome week, I'll probably focus on Silhouettes. But, rest assured, no matter how sporadic updates for this story are, I don't intend on giving up on it any time soon! If you ever want to know anything, how I am, how the next chapter's coming, anything at all, please just send me a PM, I'll get back to you ASAP. Thank you guys so much for your support and your reviews! It means the world!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: How'd you like Monterey's POV? *evil laughing* I've had that planned for a while. Since her reaping chapter, actually.**_

 _ **Thanks so much! Hopefully it won't be TOO long before the first day!**_


	14. The Real Adventure Begins

-Lindsay's POV-

Ottilie has to physically drag me out of bed that morning.

I don't know what I was thinking. The rational part of me knew that hiding under the covers wouldn't prevent this day from happening. The passionate part held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, it would.

I act with my heart, not my brain. Because of that, my intelligence has been invalidated. I do have a brain, and I do use it in school, but I don't _act_ with it. My brother has called me dumb before, I've been called an idiot, "stupid girl," because my heart is more powerful than my brain. I've tried, and I can't change that for myself. I woke up this morning ready to throw up, accepting that it really is my last day of living.

How do you walk into your own death? I'm doing it and I still don't know.

I was hiding in the darkness, the warmth of my covers, curled up into a little ball of Lindsay. Inspektor is soft-spoken and awkward, and didn't want to enter my room for fear of, well, barging into a teenage girl's room without her consent. Instead, he decided to ask Ottilie, our only living mentor and Victor of the 34th Games, to come get me. And she did just that.

The 25-year-old opens the door forcefully and I hear her heavy footsteps stomp into the room. She turns the light on with a loud click and says, "Come on now, time to get up!" She pulls the covers off of me, causing me to be temporarily blinded by the light. I feel one of her rough, calloused hands grab my ankle and pull, trying to get me out of bed.

The first sob tears out of me before I can stop it. It's practically a scream, pleading with her to not make me do this. Please. Please don't make me do this. _Please_. She lets go of my ankle in surprise, and I pull my foot back, drawing my knees up to my chest and sobbing pathetically. I can't do this. I'm going to die today. I'm not going to make it out of this. I can't possibly. I can't kill. I can't witness death. I just can't. Just thinking about it draws bile to my throat as I choke on air, sobs escaping me.

I feel a weight on the bed as Ottilie plops down. I unleash sobs, not even trying to hold them back now. Maybe I figure that if I look pathetic enough, I won't have to go. My heart believes in miracles. My brain knows better.

"So, you're really afraid, aren't you?" she asks.

I can't respond. Even if I'd try, I can only make choking, sobbing noises right now.

"I was scared too. Everyone's scared. Even the biggest, baddest Career is scared."

I sob louder thinking about them. After all, my life isn't the only one on the line here. My brain is focused on myself, but my heart aches for the others, for these people that are just as lost and afraid as I am. Some, like Monterey, are completely ignorant. But that doesn't change the fact that a tremendous number of people are going to be dead very soon. I stay curled up, sobbing loudly, not caring what Ottilie has to say to me. After all, she's here now. She's the one out of twenty-four that is here now, still breathing. She's the one that lived. Twenty-three others are dead.

"You're not just a statistic yet," she says.

I let out another sob, because I know that no matter what she says, that's how she sees me. After all, she put all of her energy into Hartwin because he's older and stronger, he scored well, he actually has a _chance_. I'm just that 15-year-old girl that scored a 3 out of 12 and can't make herself use her brain. I just can't.

"You're not. The Victor is almost never the tribute everyone expects to win."

I don't answer her, even though I could. I just don't want to.

Ottilie keeps talking. "Tributes have been able to make it out of the Games without taking lives. Or just taking one."

"No." I can't listen to her talk like this anymore. I just can't stand it. I know that I can't win and she's not going to be able to convince me that I can. I know that I'm going to die and come home in a grave. I know that my friends are going to mourn me. I know that I'm a walking corpse. She can't convince me that I'm not.

"If you think like that-"

"Even if I think positively, that doesn't mean anything!" I say miserably. "So why waste the energy!?"

"You've had a personality change," she says.

"I never thought I could win," I say quietly. "I just tried to convince myself that I did."

"You thought you could, you acted like you could, why?"

"Because I promised my friends." I say. I think I'm starting to see her point.

"That's right. You promised them you would try, didn't you?"

"I tried!" I sob again. "I tried to try! And I failed."

"You don't fail until you give up."

"I _failed_."

"You have allies, don't you?"

"Yes," I say miserably.

"That's two more people that think that you're worth it. They think that you're worth keeping around. That you're worth travelling with. They think highly of you. They think you can do this. You're the only one that's stopping you. You're the reason your friends are going to lose you. You're going to let them down if you do this."

"I'm going to let them down either way."

"Don't say that. You're letting them down when you do that. I'm not your friends, I don't know you like they do."

"That's because you gave up on me from day one," I say irritably. I just feel mad again. I feel so full of hate, it's practically exploding out of me. It's the worst feeling. I know that I can't go on like this.

"I was stupid to. It wasn't fair of me and I'm sorry."

I glance up at her round face, brown hair in a braid down her back. Her brown eyes lock with my blue ones and I know that she means it.

"I needed you," I say quietly. "I needed someone to have faith in me when I couldn't have faith in myself."

"I know."

"I felt undesirable."

"You're not."

"I felt that way."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks for the apology."

She's quiet now. There's nothing left to say.

"If I could stop this, I would. But I can't. I can't make you believe in yourself. But I'm asking you to fake it some more. You'll be surprised how far it takes you. You really will."

I swallow hard. "Fine."

Ottilie stands up. "There you go. Up at at 'em."

"Yeah," I say weakly. I try to fake something, but it's harder than you'd ever imagine when you're so full of dread. I go to the bathroom and wash my tear-stained face with cold water before I braid my hair in two pigtails and brush my teeth. I try to enjoy these luxuries, as soon I won't have them anymore, one way or another.

When I go out to the kitchen, Inspektor has papers spread out across the table, punching away numbers on a calculator, casually, as if they're easy to come around in the Capitol (which they probably are). Hartwin just looks awkward, though interested, watching Inspektor type numbers on the device and write equations down on paper. When I enter, they both look up at me.

"Morning," Inspektor says cooly.

"Hi," I say quietly, sliding into a seat.

Ottilie squeezes my shoulders and sits next to me, a determined smile on her face.

"Eat up," Inspektor says, pushing a plate of food towards me. I don't feel hungry, but I eat a good deal, knowing that soon food will be hard to come by.

"There we are," Ottilie grins. "Now I'm positive that District 10's going to get ourselves another Victor this year."

~.~.

-Yin Kozart, Head Gamemaker-

Kelley sits on the edge of the bed. We mindlessly flip cards over, whoever has the higher card taking both. When we have the same card, we wordlessly flip another over. There is no fun in our game. It's all to get our minds off of everything we've lost.

The boys are both sleeping, and I know that this is a rare opportunity for rest, but I know that any sleep I try to get will just be plagued with nightmares. It's just better to stay awake.

Kelley's naturally brown hair is sticking up everywhere, as usual. His eyes are naturally green, and they glance between the cards and me every once in a while.

Our relationship was really tense after Solitaire died; he heard those things I said about Avoxes all those years ago and was filled with fear. But the truth is, I probably couldn't function without him. I can't keep a house, work a job, and raise two babies all on my own. Maybe Solitaire could've, but I can't. I'm far too finite. Kelley's been so good, probably too good to me.

He has dark circles under his eyes and looks tired, but insists he isn't tired. He's wearing an oversized sleep shirt and short shorts. I can tell he's still wearing his binder into the night, and my suspicions are confirmed as it gets later and he starts to shift uncomfortably.

"You can…"

He just shakes his head and we keep going, though I'm still concerned.

We flip cards mindlessly. It was just kind of an unspoken agreement to play the game. A way to eat up some time so we're not just sitting awake.

We flip cards, nobody getting a definite majority. We play for a long time, but when I flip cards I don't only see the numbers and the suits: I see faces, faces of tributes that were associated with each card in Solitaire's Games. She worked so hard… She bounced so many ideas off of me. I helped her decide which card went with each tribute.

It's about 2:10 in the morning when I flip over the Ace of Spades and Kelley the 8 of hearts. The game ends abruptly, as I see their faces in my mind and think about Solitaire. Damn, I miss her. I miss her more than anything.

Kelley drops his hand, gets out of bed, and leaves quickly. His footsteps are light and silent, like a bunny, as he goes. I don't have the heart to go after him and know that he needs his space. He cared for Solitaire too. A lot. When everyone else (including me) shunned him and dehumanized him, she dared to treat him with respect and kindness. Give him a support system. A home. She dared to be patient and kind. She dared to reach out to him. She was the only one that ever did that for him as far as I know, besides Edward O'Callaghan himself. It must be a nightmare, losing both of those key people in the same way.

I let him go and clean up the cards off the bed. Solitaire knew how to shuffle them in all these cool ways. She tried to teach me how to bridge, but I could never do it like she could. Since she was killed, I stopped trying.

I put the cards in the drawer of my night-side table. Next to it is the cards that still have her handwriting on them. Sometimes I look at them when I miss her, but usually it brings too much pain. I still have no idea why she's dead. I don't know what not to do to avoid the same fate. I can't let my twins be orphans. I can't let Kelley go to a household that will abuse him. I can't afford to die now. This Games has to be good, but not too good.

A tear wells up in my eyes. Never too good.

I take my thick glasses off of my face and put them on the bedside table. Yeah, I've cried since she was killed. A lot. But I thought I was getting past it, finally. Now, I realize that I'll never be okay. I'm always going to miss her. This hole in my life isn't ever going to be filled, not by the boys, not by any friends or family, not by anyone. I will always be missing her. I will always wish she was here. I will always think about what she would do if she were back by my side.

Tears roll down my cheeks and I choke, trying not to sob out loud. The last thing I need is to wake the boys and the Avoxes.

The shadow she casts as a person, a Gamemaker, and a parent, is one I will forever linger in. The boys deserve her here, they deserve better than me. I don't know what I'm doing. I was never shown an ounce of love from my family by blood. My parents were harsh and put pressure on me to become a Head Gamemaker. Unhealthy pressure. Screaming-in-my-face pressure. My older brothers weren't as intelligent or strategic as myself. I was the constant target of all the hatred my family had.

That's why I was so bitter when Solitaire beat me out for the position. I guess I thought that if I ended up a Head Gamemaker, everything would turn around and my family would celebrate me. I guess I thought that I'd have everything I always wanted if I got here. Then Solitaire entered my life and brought everything into color, and showed me that I didn't need to have status to have everything I always wanted: she showed me love, and family, comradery, friends, mentors. She showed me happiness, laughter, brightness, generosity, kindness. She took it with her everywhere she went. She radiated vibrancy.

She loved me well, and goddammit how I loved her! She showed me that it didn't matter where I came from. Everyone can be anything. Anything is possible.

She poured her heart out into everything she did. She loved the boys so tenderly and always knew what to do for them. Compared to her, I'm a mess. Deck and Singe deserve her here. It's not fair, and if I could do _anything_ to bring her back I would do it without a second thought.

I let the sobs out quietly. I'm afraid that tomorrow, or, later today, is going to crash and burn. I'm afraid that I'm going to die tomorrow. The same fear of my 24 tributes is hidden in my heart. What happens to my boys if I'm dead? They'll grow up in an orphanage and have no idea who their parents were and why everyone is so interested in them. I can't do that to them. I can't afford it.

And yet, the control I have over my own fate is limited. I'm powerless. All I can do is hope that it goes smoothly tomorrow.

I close my eyes, squeezing tears out of them that glide down and hit my pillow. Tomorrow's going to be a hard day. One of the hardest days since losing her.

I try to get my mind off of it and try desperately to let myself fall into blackness.

.

I've had about three cups of black coffee and still don't feel awake. Instead, I just feel like shit. My head pounds, and my heart beats fast and hard, though I don't feel energized at all, just sick. I go around, giving final orders to the other Gamemakers as the tributes are currently in the hovercraft now, and I watch as the trackers light up on the screen, one by one.

"How's the weather system functioning?" I ask Cicero, fidgeting my hands nervously and trying not to look as horrified as I feel. I bounce on my feet from the coffee, causing the boys to giggle.

"Looks fine," he says, crinkling his nose as Singe gurgles happily. "Just keep those slobber-buckets away from me. They spit in my hair the other day."

"That's kind of what babies do," I say, but remembering that work needs to be done, keep milling about.

"And all of those plants are in place?"

"Exactly where you wanted them," Floris says.

"Mutts on standby?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Makvala says confidently.

"I think everything's ready." I swallow hard. I'm living the dream I always had, and I'm in hell. I feel slight tears push at the corner of my eyes, tears of fear for my family, for myself. Tears of grief for Solitaire, remembering how confidently she always strode when she was in this position. Maybe for the tributes, who were certainly just as afraid as I was.

I watch the screens as the stylists say goodbye to the tributes. Some are in the tubes after a short goodbye.

Tomer takes the jacket and puts it on himself, uncomfortably inching away from his stylist, in his tube early. Winchester from 3's goodbye is reserved, and he enters the tube as soon as the jacket is put on his broad shoulders. Static's stylist is an older woman, and they don't appear to have the best of relationships because Static chooses to zip up the jacket herself and enter the tubes early.

Aaron from 12's expression stays just as hollow, almost dead, as it's been since he was reaped. He and his stylist just stare at each other before the woman mutters about how she wishes she could move up to a higher District.

Even a Career from 4 like Branden has a stylist that is very short and sweet in terms of the goodbye she gives. Branden promises to do his District proud and enters his tube.

Bellona, another Career, looks calm and proud as her stylist zips the thin, waterproof jacket up and flips her hair over her shoulder. Their goodbye is slightly more reserved, but still well-wishing and kind.

Isa from 6 stays just as confident as she was at the reaping, and promises her stylist, a middle-aged woman, that she's going to make it back and that she'll see her soon.

Her ally Amy's eyes are full of tears, that roll down her cheeks out of her eyes as her stylist tries to reassure her, to no avail. Eventually, the snobby woman gives up trying and sends her away, sneering.

My attention is drawn when I hear a high-pitched voice saying, "You're Whimsy Chandler! You got this!" Whimsy's stylist, a woman with purple hair and a bright smile, is pep-talking her tribute. She gives Whimsy a confident smile and sends her off to the tube. Alma's stylist is an older man who is retiring next year, that gives him a pep talk not nearly as animated but still just as well-intentioned.

There's a commotion as a couple of Peacekeepers are sent into the room to subdue Abigail. The young girl from District 8 tries to run, tugging at the door and screaming, but is eventually dragged to her tube, her stylist watching and looking annoyed.

Some of the tributes have slightly more positive experiences saying goodbye to their stylists.

Fifteen-year-old Lindsay's eyes hold tears in them but she tries to keep a brave face as her stylist tries to convince her that she still has a good chance. Elias from 11 fidgets nervously as his stylist, a middle-aged man, wishes him well.

Trekker takes his jacket from his stylist and puts it on himself. He appears as if he's trying to listen to his stylist's attempt at a pep-talk, though. Linnea's eyes bubble with tears as her jacket is zippered and she enters the tube after a solemn goodbye and a weak pep talk from her stylist.

Wyatt's stylist is a middle-aged man, who puts his jacket on for him and pats his head, wishing him well and trying to give him a pep talk, though the boy from 6 looks terrified. Hartwin just listens and nods politely to his stylist, an older woman who loves to chatter and is talking about how proud she is that 10 has a chance.

Sondra from 3 listens to her stylist give her some last-minute advice on how to upkeep her attractive appearance in the Arena, and how to play it to her advantage. I wonder if she's going to sway Beo or not.

"No, not Beo! Jack!" he's so loud that my attention goes to the Disrict 9 monitor, where a middle-aged man with raven black hair and dark eyes is scowling and gritting his teeth.

"To think that District 9 actually has a chance this year and it lies in the hands of this lunatic," he says, sounding annoyed.

"I'm Jack Merridew!" the 18-year-old says cheerfully, putting the jacket over his shoulders and zipping it up. "Sucks to you!" he says as he enters the tube. "Sucks to you all!"

He laughs as he enters his tube.

Some tributes have longer conversations with their stylists. Ezekiel from District 2 talks with his stylist, a young chatterbox of a woman who talks excitedly, albeit mindlessly.

Monterey snuggles into the black jacket of District 12. You can tell right away that she's changed. She's no longer the smiley, delusional child we saw. It seems that reality has finally caught up to her.

"Am I gonna die?" she asks quietly, glancing fearfully to the corner of the room.

"Most likely," says her stylist, a bored woman who looks like she'd rather be anywhere else than there, any other District.

Monterey lets out a whimper. "I don't want to die." She looks around. "Aaron said I'm not gonna die."

"He's going to die too."

"No. Please." Her eyes are wide and pleading, filled with sadness as she glances at the corner of the room and abruptly shouts, "SHUT UP!"

"Just get in the tube," the woman says, pointing to the glass tube.

Monterey goes there, constantly looking nervously behind her shoulder.

The glass closes around her and a tear slips out of her eye, rolling down her cheek slowly. Her voice is wobbly and barely above a whisper when she speaks next.

"Well… At least if I die I'll join my friends."

Sequoia's stylist is a younger genderfluid individual who chatters endlessly with her as they're zipping up her jacket. They have dark blue hair with pastel pink tips, and reassure her about all the faith they have in her. They look like they want to go for the hug but just take both of her hands instead, giving them a squeeze.

Tempest's stylist, a man with hair different colors of blue and a prosthetic hand, gives her a pep talk, louder than the others. Tempest bounces excited on her toes and shouts back at him, as if he's a coach and she's a football player. He does eventually calm down enough to give her a hug goodbye and promise that his bets have never been wrong before. Tempest is the next-to last into her tube.

However, the last one into their tube is Torque of District 5. Their stylist, who has orange and navy hair and an attractive, gentle face, gives them a tight hug, which the 16-year-old returns. The two of them stay like that for a while, swaying slightly. It's not until the timer is on fifteen seconds that Christer lets go and puts his hands on his tribute's shoulders.

"You have so much to return to, Torque. You have so much potential. You can make a change. You can inspire people that have historically never had a voice. For Ree."

Torque's expression doesn't change, but their voice cracks when they quietly repeat, "For Ree."

Torque walks into the tube and Christer puts a hand up in a wave goodbye. Torque does the same as the countdown hits zero and the tubes start to rise, taking the tributes into their Arena.

"It's time," I say, biting my lip nervously. My heart pounds, pumped up with nerves and caffeine.

Floris puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry," he says. "We did everything just as you asked."

"That means there's no one else to blame if this implodes."

"We're not going to let those babies be orphans," Makvala says decidedly. "I'll be damned if we do."

"Thanks," I say gratefully.

"I'm not touching those things again," Cicero says.

The countdown is running and with each second I feel the same adrenaline and nerves that the tributes must be feeling. I barely feel excitement, though. Just cold, dark fear.

The tributes are blinded temporarily by the sun, which is currently shining pleasantly. They are in an arc around the Cornucopia. However, the golden horn looks horribly small this year compared to the main body of it. The entire perimeter of the Arena is surrounded by enormous rocky cliffs. The tributes are currently placed on the edge of the Arena, the cliffs infinitely tall behind them. In front of them, the sound can be heard of a waterfall that flows through an opening at the top of a cave. The main attraction of the Arena lies in front of the tributes.

I watch little Monterey's eyes go up in awe at the great temple that lies in front of them, carved into the side of the mountain. The temple is huge, intricately decorated with patterns of people that are so far removed from history only few remember them. The temple is shaped like half of a pyramid, the gray steps going up and in. The temple is large but not so big that the tributes will easily be able to hide. The waterfall flows into one of the rooms, the only accessible water source. The tributes will have the choice to take shelter or stay out here, in plain sight, and be slaughtered. This Games is going to be interesting, that's for sure. For light, we've put in lots of flint and a lot of torches in each room. However, the temple isn't very flammable, we've ensured that. It will be up to the Careers: and any other bloodthirsty tributes: to gut each room. However, some rooms do have tricks, nasty tricks at that.

In terms of an Arena, it's actually fairly complex, a bit of a risk for me. Solitaire's Arenas were simple and to-the-point, but her concepts and main ideas were more complex. This was a complex Arena, and if the tributes didn't explore this Games would end quickly: and bloodily.

I swallow a nervous lump in my throat as Deck sleeps and Singe babbles and wiggles happily.

"Three… Two… One."

The gong rings, signaling the start of the 42nd annual Hunger Games.

As soon as the gong rings, Elias from 11 takes off, arriving at the Cornucopia and meeting Sequoia from 7. The Careers arrive just as they've had the time to grab their bags, and the two of them run away with their bearings, meeting Trekker from 8. Together, the trio escapes cleanly. That doesn't appear as if it's going to be the case for anyone else, though, as the Careers have weapons as soon as they can.

Some tributes decide not to risk it and weigh the consequences. Wyatt from 6 runs into the temple alone, and close behind him are Torque and Static, who link arms to stay together as they run.

The first casualty is Tomer from District 7, who goes into the horn in search of food and is taken out quick and easy by Ezekiel's katana. Winchester from 3 runs to get something from the outside edge, and is hit on the shoulder by Bellona's sword while he's grabbing a backpack. The girl from 2 challenges him further, but he takes off running and when other tributes come, she goes to help her allies against them.

Not soon after, an alliance of four younger girls arrives, under the leadership of Isa from 6, and they all take different approaches to sneak in and get something. The leader is, as they usually are, the first to die when they're noticed and Isa is taken out by Whimsy's spear cleanly to the back. Lindsay screeches in horror, but it's cut off when she's stabbed clean by Bellona's sword. Amy fares slightly better, at least making it inside of the horn, but she's gone into shock at seeing both of her allies taken out and is soon taken out of her misery by a scythe wielded by Alma from 1.

While this is happening, Linnea from 9 tries to sneak around, looking hesitant.

Her District partner Beo shoots past her, immediately pulling his fist back and punching Tempest square in the face as she had just finished stringing a belt of knives around her waist. Branden is about to go after him when he notices Linnea starting away and starts after her. The boy from 9 cackles as he runs with a backpack and a sword on his back. Tempest is momentarily distracted, setting her sights on the boy from 9 and failing to pay attention to anyone else, screaming profanities after him, throwing no less than three of her knives in his direction and getting more frustrated each time she misses.

In her distraction, Sondra is able to grab a backpack from the front of the horn and run to catch up with Beo, her speed working to her advantage. Hartwin grabs a couple packages from the front of the golden horn and takes off unscathed.

As Sondra and Beo start up the steps together, they eventually catch up to Abigail from District 8, who had stopped to collect herself halfway up. Beo gleefully swings the sword and takes the girl out of her misery before she can even scream.

Tempest keeps screaming until Ezekiel runs out to meet her and says, "Hey, calm down, Punk, we'll get 'im later." The pair is about to start back to the Cornucopia when they see the tributes from District 12 running together and go for two last Cornucopia kills. Aaron looks behind his shoulder and sees the Careers approaching. Monterey doesn't notice. Tempest aims and, with a simple flick of the wrist, sends a knife flying at Monterey. The knife doesn't hit the 12 girl, though. Instead, it hits dead-center on her District partner's back, who had seen the shot coming and stepped in front of her, giving her a shove forward.

"Go!" For the first time since he got here, he actually raises his voice, though it's strained. He's dead before he can see if Monterey will make it.

She doesn't leave, though. Instead, she collapses onto her knees by her District partner's side, shouting out his name and letting out a wail as Ezie easily takes her out, biting his lip as she collapses with a screech, bleeding on her District partner.

The Arena goes into silence. The Careers survey their supplies and kills, organizing their stuff and choosing what to bring with them into the temple. Since the Cornucopia is on the outside, the tributes can't make it a base or a hub. They choose wisely, though, in my opinion, as nine cannons shoot off. An impressive bloodbath, if I do say so myself. Not to say I expected anything less than great with six trained Careers working together.

"Good job team," I sigh, feeling relieved. "We made it. Show the survivors."

The cameras show the pair from District 5 first. They stay close, huddled together, as they walk and take note of which way they came. After that, Beo and Sondra, who have found a room and started a couple of torch fires. Then, the trio of Trekker, Elias, and Sequoia. Trekker starts some fires while Sequoia and Elias go through their backpacks. Wyatt sits by himself, making sparks with flint but unable to start a real fire yet. Hartwin moves along in the darkness, never looking back. He's plenty capable of lighting a torch, I'm sure, but chooses not to. Hopefully these Games go by fast (but not too fast) and smooth. The sooner I can be left with my boys, the better.

I watch as the Careers take their weapons of choice and put large hiking backpacks over their shoulders.

"Time for the real adventure to begin," Tempest says with a grin. The Careers all agree, and together the group starts up the steps.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: I'm back! Who missed me? Nobody? That's alright. XD**_

 _ **Here's the bloodbath. It's kind of long and I hope you didn't feel like it was too much of my OCs, but I thought it wasn't fair that I give Monty an extra POV because she's a bloodbath and not give Lindsay one too. I just wanted to keep that on the down-low for as long as possible. Sorry.**_

 _ **So, there's the bloodbath. I hope you liked it! I hope you thought it was fair and realistic. It was a hard choice, I wanted everyone to keep going. Thanks so much to those that submitted bloodbaths specifically. I'll probably try to get around to an afterlife AU for this story. And drawing the tributes, I should do that too. Someday. Hopefully soon.**_

 _ **Also, there's a poll up for your favorite tributes, so if you haven't voted already please do! You can choose up to 4 so if you vote for your own you can vote for someone else's too. Shit, I have to do point values, don't I? It's almost 2 A.M. Ugh. Alright.**_

 _ **Prices:**_

 _ **Battery (for flashlight/lanterns): 10**_

 _ **Small Canteen (Empty): 15**_

 _ **Large Canteen (empty): 20**_

 _ **Bandages: 20**_

 _ **Blanket: 20**_

 _ **Compass: 25**_

 _ **Simple foods (bags of jerky, crackers, or dried fruit): 28**_

 _ **Pillow: 30**_

 _ **Basic First-Aid Kit: 35**_

 _ **Socks/shoes/shirts/extra articles of clothing: 35**_

 _ **Functioning Flashlight: 40**_

 _ **Small Canteen (with water): 50**_

 _ **Iodine (to disinfect water): 55**_

 _ **Well-functioning Lantern: 60**_

 _ **Matches: 68**_

 _ **Large Canteen (with water): 70**_

 _ **Night-vision goggles: 75**_

 _ **Functioning Sleeping Bag: 75**_

 _ **Knife: 90**_

 _ **High-Quality Food (bread from a District, meat, broth/soup): 90**_

 _ **Tribute's Favorite Capitol Meal: 100**_

 _ **Medicine: 100**_

 _ **Complex First-Aid Kit: 103**_

 _ **Tribute's weapon of choice: 120**_

 _ **Arena Map: 200**_

 _ **There. The only thing I ask is just that you sponsor reasonably. I'll only send one item at a time, and since this is the 42**_ _ **nd**_ _ **Games I'm trying to keep it at least somewhat canon so just... Keep it down a bit. Occasional gifts are better.**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Any of the BB deaths (Isa, Tomer, Abigail, Linnea, Lindsay, Amy, Monterey, Aaron) that were surprising to you? Who of them will you miss most?**_


	15. Lots of First Kiss Stories

-Tempest, D4F-

As the first day comes to an end and the sun sets, the six of us sit at the entrance to the temple. We don't want to go in yet, and plan to get in there as soon as the sun rises. Well, more like, Whimsy and Alma plopped down, refusing to go any farther after climbing all those damn steps with those stupid damn heavy backpacks. As the leader, I had to be sensitive to them and stop. Besides, my back was killing me.

"It's been a long day, huh?" I ask, glancing around the circle as we pass around some jerky to celebrate our first night in the Games.

"Exciting," Whimsy says quietly, as the sky darkens. I've seen plenty of sunsets, and recognize how unrealistically quickly the darkness is littered with stars. I don't mention anything, though. I still haven't mentioned that I have my own sunrise every time I see Ezie. As we become familiar, the aura fades, but still remains interesting. I haven't gotten to get a good look at it yet.

"Tomorrow's another big day," Branden says, yawning.

"in terms of death count, we didn't do too shabby at all."

"And we got some help," Ezie says.

"Huh?"

"Beo. Took out that 8 girl on the way up the steps," Bellona adds.

"What a nut," Whimsy sighs.

"Doesn't mean he's not dangerous," I add.

"Too true."

The alliance falls into silence, looking at the crystal clear sky. It's beautiful. The night breeze is cool and gentle. It's perfect.

"I think I'm ready for some sleep. Who will keep watch?"

"Already? Night just fell. I'm not tired at all," Whimsy says.

"Me neither," some of the others chorus.

"Well, I'll get some rest then." Branden pats me on the shoulder before laying down, and Bellona curls up soon after. I wish Branden wouldn't be so handsy. He's definitely hinting at something that I can't get into right now, not with someone like him.

"I'm not tired," I say. "I'm too excited."

"I get what you mean," Whimsy says. "Can't sleep."

"Me neither! My mind's whizzing with thoughts…" Alma gives a brief grin.

Ezie yawns.

"Don't you want to go to bed?" I ask, glancing over.

He shakes his head. "Nah punk, I'd rather stay up."

I still have no idea why he calls me that. Why he calls _everyone_ that. The speaking quirk, of calling everyone a certain pet-name… I feel like that corresponds with someone else I know… Hm… Nope, I can't put my finger on it. "Alright. Well, we could talk about strategy."

"Ugh, boring! We can talk about it when the other two are awake, they actually _care_ about that shit."

"You know that strategy matters," I sigh.

"I know, but that doesn't mean I want to spend a million years talking about it."

Alma laughs a bit. "You're ridiculous," he says, playfully bumping her shoulder.

"No, I'm Whimsical!" That causes everyone, even me to laugh.

"Amazing, the power of names," I say. "What even _is_ Almandine?"

"Some kind of garnet. I dunno, my parents wanted to be original?"

"Mine is quite literal," I say. "My dad knew it suited me since I was born. But apparently it was just a lucky guess because my brother's name means 'shelter from the storm.' And he's not that at all. Can you tell I'm interested in names?"

"Just a bit," Whimsy laughs.

"How about you, Ezie? What does Ezekiel mean?"

"Oh, uh, I'm not sure."

"So many people aren't. It sounds cool though."

"Ezie… Ezie…" Whimsy looks like she's trying to make a pun. "Mezie… Sounds kind of like messy? Are you a slob?"

"Good try, punk," Ezie says, and we all laugh.

"The stars here are pretty," I comment quietly, laying on my back to look at them.

"That can't be comfortable, punk," Ezie says.

"It's alright."

"You can use me for a pillow if you want."

"Huh? Oh, okay?" I shift so that my head sits on his lap. "That sounds pretty friendly," I say. "I'm not here to make friends."

"I know, punk, I'm not either." His fingers graze my forehead as he brushes bangs out of my eyes.

"Ezie. If you made it a long e it could sound like _easy_. Like… Who was that? That was Easy."

"That was easy. That sounds like a good slogan," Alma says.

"Mm. Yeah."

"Have you ever been called easy, Ezie?"

"No. I'm hella demi, I'm not easy."

There's a pause.

"First kiss stories. Right now, go!"

"Isn't this a little friendly?" I ask, starting to shift away from Ezie's warmth.

"Nah. It's not too personal, right? Mine wasn't. Mine was just one of my friends, Amaze." We both wanted to get it over with, so we did.

"Mine… Was awkward. A time that I'd rather not relive." He takes a long piece of hair that had been resting on my nose and messes with it a little bit, glancing down at me and making eye contact before looking away quickly.

"What?" I ask teasingly. "Now you have to spill."

"it was just some girl. I don't really remember her name anymore because I've had some more pleasant kissing experiences that I care more about remembering."

"Was it Katelyn? That girl you mentioned in your interview?"

Ezie laughs, loudly, so loudly that Bellona groans in disapproval and rolls over. "No!" he says, laughing some more. It takes about an eternity for him to stop laughing. "Fuck no. Thanks for the amusing image though."

"I get that. All my best friends are guys. It's too weird to think about kissing any of them."

"It's weird alright."

"You, Alma?"

Alma shrugs. "A guy in my class. It was kinda awkward. But all first kisses are awkward."

"Now you _have_ to share yours Tempest. We all shared ours."

I think for a second. "Eurydice."

"Eurydice?"

"Eurydice. Yeah. She was a year younger than me. Had bronze hair in curls in a ponytail. Her lips were so red, she left lipstick markings everywhere. She was really cute, and funny too. We never really dated, officially. We were just friends, and then we were friends that made out once. Truth is that at the time that happened, my brother Lee was so into her. It's what you get when you have a sibling that's only a year apart from you in age."

"Wow. Mine is two, so I get that," Whimsy says.

"Only child," Alma says, and Ezie nods. Laying on his lap and looking up at the stars, I suddenly start to feel quite tired.

I'm about to fall the entire way asleep when we hear loud, shrill screams echoing from inside the temple.

~.~.

-Beo, D9M-

Simon is dead.

I can see it through the hole in the ceiling, just big enough to display the sky and show us the casualties of the day. Great.

I don't know what I feel as I look up at the sky and see him up there. Bright eyes. The mystic figure, outcasted by the other boys and known as batty, that realizes the true beast: that which lies in each of the boys: and is killed before he can pass the message onto the ones that need to hear it most.

The Capitol Seal replaces Monterey's face up there and I grit my teeth.

"Pretty big bloodbath," Sondra remarks. I don't answer her. I can't make myself speak words.

 _I'm going to have a fit,_ I think, drawing my knees up to my chest. My breath starts to waver. No, I'm going to start crying and screaming if I don't do something else.

I can't be Ralph, sobbing for the loss of humanity. Nik is Ralph. I'm Jack. I'm the man consumed by his own beast. Anything to get out of here. I'm not Beo, I'm Jack. Jack doesn't regret that Simon is dead. Jack doesn't regret anything. He's the chief. I'm the chief. I can't crack.

"Beo?"

I laugh. Loudly. Her green-tinted gray eyes widen at the noise. "Sh… You don't want the Careers to find us _now_ , do you?"

I bite my lip. "Sorry." No tears are in my eyes, but I wipe them anyways. I need to get my mind off of it. I need to think about something else. I have to think about something happier so I don't start crying in front of everyone. Heroes don't cry. Heroes are always strong. Heroes never show their weakness to their enemies.

Sondra claps loudly in my face, causing me to jolt and yell.

"Do you want to keep watch first?" she asks pointedly, her gaze still on me. Maybe she'd asked me before and I wasn't listening. That happens sometimes. Nik always got so pissed when it happened. So did my parents. And don't even get me started on teachers.

"Sure," I say, blinking at her. She nods and lays down.

 _Happy memories_ , I think to myself. I try to dive into the pictures I have in my brain.

 _Presently, Nik's head was laying on Beo's lap._

 _They were sitting in the former's room, on his bed. On top of the same covers under which Nik hid when he was high. Under the same covers that hid the lines on his pale skin. They were on top of the covers, and they were together. Beo was looking down at the boy below him and running a hand through Nik's soft red hair and trying to count the freckles on his face. It was a pointless endeavor, every once in a while Nik would shift and Beo would lose count._

" _That feels nice," he said. He was smiling. Beo had thought about kissing those lips before, but he had never thought it seriously until that moment._

" _Er… Right…" Dumbstruck, Beo kept rhythmically running his hand through Nik's short, soft hair and watching his face. "You have a cute smile." What an understatement that was. It was a rare treasure; it took a lot of searching to discover but finding it brought with it more than words could describe. However, it would go away as quickly as it appeared, so every second those brown eyes were filled with true joy was rich and sweet as the chocolate they resembled._

 _The tenderness of the moment was temporarily shattered when the smile became cold and fake and the boy on Beo's lap let out a snort, reminding the younger boy that Nik didn't believe it at all._

" _No, you do…" The ache to convince him of this fact was eating away at Beo. All he wanted was for Nik to see in himself what Beo saw in him. Sunlight, soft and gentle and warm against the skin._

" _As if." He said it simply, like it was a fact. He'd been lied to for so long, Beo knew he wouldn't be able to convince him in such a short amount of time as a day._

" _I like it," he said decisively._

" _You do?"_

 _Beo was ready to yell it from the mountaintops, but he responded with a simple, "Mhm."_

" _Oh." There was a pause of silence as Beo noticed the tips of his friend's ears go pink._

 _The pause between them continued, in which Beo continued to stroke Nik's hair and Nik blessed him with another smile. They were so close. They were warm. They were together._

"Can you maybe think that?" Sondra's voice snaps me out of my daydream.

"Huh?"

"You're talking so loudly another tribute's bound to find us with how this cave echoes. I'm trying to sleep. Please, just… Quiet down a bit. Yeah?"

"O-Oh. Okay."

Robert lays down and rolls over. I go back into my memory.

 _Beo had a habit of saying things. He thought them and said them. He didn't really know why. He often got yelled at for it. Things would just slip out. He couldn't figure out how to control it. This was one of those times. He wasn't really serious, but enjoyed fantastical ideas._

" _We should run away together."_

" _Yeah?"_

" _That'd solve everything." It was true. It would. It really would. "Nobody would even bother us."_

" _Yeah…" Nik didn't usually yell at Beo for the things that just slipped out of his mouth. Beo was always so thankful for that. Even when nobody else took him seriously, Nik did._

" _You and I could get away from here and live in a small house together. Sit like this and not have a care in the world." Beo allowed his imagination to run wild. He was often yelled at for that, but Nik never yelled at him for that._

 _Nik just smiled at the mental image. "That sounds nice."_

 _Beo continued his fantasy. "We wouldn't be living a rich life, but we wouldn't need to."_

" _Who cares about money?"_

 _Beo thought about his parents and sister back home, and snorted. "I can name a few people."_

 _Nik just smiled up at him. "Mm, me too."_

 _The younger boy continued to imagine. It was something he was good at. It wouldn't get him a job and it wouldn't get him anywhere, but Beo had a huge imagination. "We could just sit here and not worry about what anyone else is saying. Why should we care?"_

 _Nik encouraged him to continue with a nod._

" _Just you and me," Beo said dreamily, before he floated slowly back to reality. "But… I guess that'd come to an end when you found someone to, like, go steady with."_

 _Nik responded with another snort, and Beo's heart dropped to his stomach._

 _He changed the subject. "I'm just running my mouth. All idealistic-like."_

" _Unusual for you." Usually Beo tried to control his fantasies. If he took them too far, reality would hurt too much._

 _The younger boy shrugged. "I get all idealistic-like every once in a while. Comes from a lot of reading." Beo had certainly been reading a lot lately._

" _Yeah?"_

 _Beo nodded, and bit his lip, gazing down at the boy on his lap. So beautiful, and yet it would never happen… He was far too pure for someone like Beo. They'd been best friends since they were 5, but not without some roadblocks along the way. Beo's voice was quiet when he spoke next. "Literature makes it seem so damn easy to just… Tell him you love him and run away, away from everyone… Makes you wonder if, maybe when these were written… It was possible to just… Do that."_

" _I wish it were." Nik had spoken the words Beo was thinking._

" _I believe that's why we still read shit like that, even today. To root for some characters because you know you'll never get to do the same."_

 _The older boy reached up and gently touched Beo's cheek. Under his fingers, Beo melted. "We'll get out of here," Nik said quietly._

" _Someday." Beo gazed into his eyes, so deep and rich like the season of autumn, when the trees became magnificent and the breeze was gentle and cool._

"Beo."

I jump. "Sorry!"

"How about _I_ take watch and _you_ sleep?"

"I don't want to sleep," I say simply.

She looks kind of mad. "Just keep it down and stay on-guard, alright?"

"Alright."

" _Unless by then something happens," Beo continued quietly. Reality sunk in, cold and deep and dark._

" _Like the reaping?" Nik asked, his voice quiet. Beo could practically see the ghosts of images playing in front of Nik's eyes, haunting memories he never liked to talk about. That one event that changed his life and made the reapings even more of a reality. The heartbreak of losing Lyndon._

 _Beo kept stroking Nik's hair, trying to comfort him. "Mhm. Or even something that brought us apart."_

" _Nothing will do that."_

This, now, is an example of a literary device called irony- an outcome of events contrary to what was, or might have been, expected. It stings and hurts.

" _Guess so."_

 _Nik let out a sigh, and then it was quiet between them. All Beo could see was Nik. All he felt was his heat. All he wanted was to kiss his lips. He was drowning in his eyes, that shone like amber in the sunlight coming through the window. Beo stopped thinking in that moment and acted, leaning down and kissing those lips without even thinking about it._

"Beo!" Robert crawled over, scowling. "You're being too loud. Keep it down. I can't sleep and you'll just attract other tributes if you keep talking."

"I just need to calm down."

"I think you should sleep now. I'll stay awake and keep watch."

"But-"

" _Now_. Please. I'm not tired anymore."

"Alright…" I lay down on the cold, hard, stone floor. I wish I had the means by which to make a mask, but I don't. All we have is a couple lousy backpacks with a thermos of water and food and a knife and a first-aid kit and a spool of rope. And the sword.

It's so cold I curl up into a ball to conserve body heat. I squeeze my eyes shut and fade into blackness.

I fall into a hazy dream. The details are blurry and dark, I don't know what's happening, all I know is that I'm afraid, I'm very afraid, something is happening that's tearing me apart, chasing me, clawing me into the darkness. I scream out, begging to be saved, but nobody comes.

 _Wake up, Beo_ , I think, _This is a dream… Wake up, wake up, wake up!_

I wake up panting, wiping sweat off my forehead, and locking eyes with Sondra, who has the swordpoint out and ready to stab.

She says nothing, but looks in a frenzy. A laugh tears out of my throat, a loud cackle, which causes her to freeze in shock just long enough for me to attack, sending us to the ground.

I keep laughing. "I knew this alliance wasn't honest, but I would've given it at least another day before it went to shit like this."

"I-I just thought I heard a noise-"

I bark out another laugh. "Right, that noise was my heart beating, right? We all want to get home, Robert. I'm the chief. I have to get back. You're nothing but an obstacle in my way." She struggles, trying to break free of me, but we both know little Miss Sexy is horribly outmatched here.

"I was gonna give you a day or two to prove your worth before I killed you, but I guess my generosity has been revoked with this plot twist."

She starts screaming at the top of her lungs. It's a high-pitched shriek that causes me to cringe, but I know I can't let go.

 _I am not Beo. Beo doesn't kill people. I am Jack Merridew. Jack killed Abigail. Jack's about to kill Roger too._

I shout over Sondra's screams. "Kill the pig! Cut her throat! Bash her in!" Jack, full of anger and vengeance, runs the knife across Robert's shoulders to make him feel pain. Sondra- er, Robert- keeps screaming, probably in the hope that another tribute will come and save him. Jack puts the knife up, knowing that this is a battle he's won.

He hesitates, though. Just for a second. Robert keeps shrieking, and Jack thinks about Ralph, who was waiting back home for him to set things straight, and the hunger revenge had filled him with, and easily ran the knife across Robert's throat, causing a thick, dark stream of blood to stream out as Robert's body went limp. A cannon boomed, and I feel a lump starting to form in my throat.

Quickly, Jack used the blood streaming out of Robert's wounds to create a mask on his face. It reeked and felt warm and sticky, but he was desperate to escape the judgement of the outside world, and the blood was so far the only thing he had to hide behind. He used as much as he could get to cover his face in a film of red.

The masks are symbolic.

They represent freedom from shame and humiliation, freedom from the civilized world, freedom from the judgement of society. Behind the mask there was no shame or self-consciousness.

Behind the mask he was free.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Hey everyone, sorry for the delay on this. Hope it was worth it, though. Certainly action-packed. This is a story that I just get random bursts of inspiration for and crank out chapters really fast when I'm inspired. It's fun though. I love these characters and next chapter you'll get to see how the others are faring as well.**_

 _ **Oh, and the scene with Beo and Nik was only partly written by me. The other part comes from my friend Jess, who also owns Nik. It was a RP we did and I thought it was fitting to throw in there. Thanks Jess!**_

 _ **Another thing: every Sunday evening I'm going to start streaming either drawing or AU writing (Halloween AU, Afterlife AU, anything I'm feeling inspired for)! Sunday nights from 7-9 I'll work on that, unless some kind of scheduling conflict happens. If you check my SYOT shenanigans blog for 84, it'll keep you updated. Then, if I'm still feeling inspired, I'll do an hour or so of requests. It was really fun last time so I invite you to check out the SYOT blog for details.**_

 _ **Thanks for reviews and support! Let me know if you want to sponsor, but I wouldn't sponsor until next chapter because I'll be saying what everyone has and needs.**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Thoughts on the development/past stuff in this chapter with the first kiss stories and the Beo/Nik stuff (did you like it, did you think it was cute, did you think it added depth to the characters/made them more memorable, etc.)? How was the balance between flashbacks and action?**_


	16. Rock Bottom

_The first night_

-Torque's POV-

What do you do when your worst nightmare comes true?

What do you do when doctors look you in the face and tell you that your sister has cancer? That she'll be lucky to see her tenth birthday? What do you do?

You drop out of school, that's what you do. Passions be damned. You work the most mindless jobs for meager pay. You could aim for higher, a higher-paying job, you're smart and you love science, but you need the money _now_. You don't have three years. You have a couple of measly months.

What do you do when someone you respect, admire, _love_ refuses to give you decent respect? When your fucking _hero_ looks you in the fucking _face_ and tells you that you're being fucking ridiculous!? The person you've spent your whole life trying to impress, trying to make him _proud_. What do you do?

You doubt. That's what you do. You feel like an alien in your own fucking body. You feel irrelevant. You try to convince yourself that you're a boy. You try everything to "fix" yourself. _Everything_. And it doesn't work. You wish you were someone else.

What do you do when you have to lie about who you are just to get work? What do you do then?

You do what you have to. You lie. You put up with being misgendered, because at least you're earning money, every minute is more money that goes towards Ree, and you would do anything for her. _Anything_. You ignore everyone else and focus on working in the plant because that's what you have to do.

What do you do when your six-year-old sister comes home from school and asks you what a fag is, because she heard people saying that word to Fiona during lunch? What do you do?

You have to tell her the truth. Of course you could lie, but you know she would find out the truth anyways. You have to tell her what it means. You can't just run away and pretend that word doesn't exist. You have to sit her down and tell her never to say it. You have to be honest, even if it hurts. You can't cry in front of her, and you can't shrug it off. You have to decide whether you're going to ask Fiona about it, because you're concerned for her health and want to direct her to someone that could help her, or if you're going to wait for her to say something when she's ready.

What do you do when your 13-year-old sister comes home from school bruised and bloody? You know why. You know damn well why. What do you do?

You come clean. That's what you do. And it's hard. You have to confess that you know, and watch the shock, pain, and fear on her face as she realizes she was outed. You have to watch your 13-year-old sister apologize, because she thought you were going to be mad at her for not telling you herself. You have to _watch_. You can't fucking run away. You can't burst into tears. You can't. You have to be there. You can't pretend it's not happening. You can't pretend she wasn't hurt. You get her ice and tell Kyria to leave her be for a while, then you get Bev. You don't have all the answers. You can't make it better. You can't just put a band-aid on this shit and dry the tears. Bev helps more than you ever could. She understands. You're just relieved that Fiona is safe now.

What do you do when you hit rock bottom?

Some people fall like a feather: so slowly and gently that they don't even know they're falling.

Some have the ground ripped out from under them. You land on your back on the ground, the air is pushed out of your lungs, and when you look up, you can't even see the ground you were standing on just five minutes ago.

What do you do when you can't see anything? You can't breathe. You can't open your eyes. Every movement is a struggle. What do you do then?

You get up.

What do you do when you're sent to a fight to the death?

You _fight_.

And dammit, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to _fight_.

I refuse to give up. I'm not giving up on my life, I'm not getting up on my family, and I'm not giving up on myself.

I'm going to do what I have to do to _survive_. I'm going to start building, brick by fucking brick, and climb until I can break the surface. Nothing is going to stop me from getting back to District 5 where I belong.

Nothing, except for the little redhead that's sleeping on my lap.

Having an ally is dangerous. Especially an ally like Static. She's just so infectious. We're becoming closer and closer, I know it. I can't deny it.

I'm only with her to win her over. I'll make her like me, so that if she wins, she'll take care of Ree when she gets home. That's the only reason why we're still together. I want her to think of me fondly and remember my sister, just in case the worst happens to me.

That's what I keep telling myself.

She was pretty upset when Monterey's face appeared in the sky. I could see it in her eyes, even if she tried to remain nonchalant. She was thankful when I said I'd take watch.

They were friends. I don't know how I know, I just do. They were friends. Monterey really liked Static, and was always so kind to her. The 12 tribute would wave across the room to her, and seemed to admire everything she did. Static probably had a clue that allying with the starving 13-year-old that heard voices wasn't in her best interest, but she still had a fondness for the kid. I know she did.

Monterey was a good kid. I hope that her death was quick.

I can't think about that now, though. It'll only weigh me down. I need to stay focused on the present, and keep my head in the game. I'll have time to take it all in and recover once I'm home and Ree's playing outside with Kyria, running and jumping rope, playing hopscotch.

To take my mind off of the bloodbath, I look around the room we're currently in. We entered the temple together, and went left. Static said that the waterfall was coming in on the left side, and I followed her lead. It would be important to have a reliable water source, after all, it was a priority that we both agreed on. The room we ended up in, however, has no water to be seen.

It's huge. It's covered in vines and moss and other plants, and is dense like a forest. The room is so big, we'd walked around for a while and had just see more vines and ivy hanging in our way. We decided to call it quite in the night, and now she's sleeping peacefully against me. I can't think about the future, what might happen to her, or to me. I need to stay alert and in the present.

We've got nothing. We didn't even pick up a torch. We need to find water and then see about a source of food. I can't imagine how we're going to find food in a stone temple, but Mr. Kozart can't have all of his tributes keel over from hunger. There has to be a way. And, with our combined brains, Static and I will figure it out.

I hope we don't find any other tributes. I'm not strong enough to fight with my bare hands. Static and I took off without looking back, so we have no idea where anyone else is. Beo could be in the same room as us and we'd have no idea. We're on the very rightmost edge, against the wall where more ivy is growing.

The night goes by as it would, until I see something in the distance. Slowly, I nudge Static, who blinks tiredly at me. "What...?" I shake my head, pointing out in the distance. Maybe I'm just seeing things and need sleep. But maybe…

Static is immediately alert, which must mean she sees it too. A light. Someone is in the same room as us.

She looks at me for our next plan of action. I couldn't tell you the way out, and our plan of skimming along the wall hasn't given us any decisive direction like we hoped it would. It seems as if the room is endless. We could double-team them, whoever it is. That is, assuming there's only one of them. Or we could wait to see if they'll go the other direction. The only other option is to try and get out of the room.

Static and I exchange a glance. It seems that neither of us knows what to do. The light gets more and more distant, and eventually is engulfed by the darkness of the room and the thickness of the vines. Hopefully that gives us safety for at least tonight. I hand Static the palm-sized rock we'd found and collected to use as a weapon, just in case. Could either of us really bash someone's skull in? I hope we never have to find out. I give her a look in the darkness, trying to silently ask if she's okay taking watch. She nods a bit and sits up, so I lay down. The ground is hard and uncomfortable, and even laying on Static's lap doesn't help much. I never thought I'd miss my old, stinky, straw-filled mattress, but now I miss it more than anything. I'd do anything for a proper pillow.

After a while of laying there, we hear a muffled scream. My eyes fly open and I sit up, feeling groggy and confused, but mostly alarmed. Static's eyes are wide as she looks around nervously. The room has fallen back into silence, but we stay there, still shocked. My heart thumps in my chest but I keep a straight face. I can't crack now.

"Who…?" Static whispers quietly.

"Sh…" I run a hand through her hair to try to calm her. I whisper as quietly as I possibly can, "Doesn't matter. It was from another room."

Static nods, but still looks frazzled. After losing Monterey, this will only make things worse. I shake my head and mouth, "One less person between one of us and home." The realization that only one will survive only makes her tense more. "Sh, it's okay fam." I know it's not okay. But what else can I say? "Just focus on now. On that strategy of yours. On our next plan."

That seems to help her regain her composure. She swallows hard and nods, straightening up. "Sleep," she whispers. "I've got watch."

I just nod and lay back down.

Sleep isn't easy to come by. No matter how much I try, I can't stop hearing that scream. My mind races, working quickly to try and figure out who the screams may have come from. Maybe Sequoia. Oh, maybe Sondra. Probably not a Career girl, but you never know. What about the source of the light? Maybe it's Winchester. Could Static and I take Winchester with just a rock? Maybe if we had the element of surprise. He's a big strong guy, it'd definitely take both of us. Then again, he has a very soft edge to him, even though he's such a big guy. Maybe he wouldn't fight us very hard. What if it's Beo? It could very well be. Beo likes to talk, though. I'm sure if it were him we'd hear him before we saw him. Maybe he was just playing us during training, pretending to be loud and obnoxious.

 _Stop being so paranoid Torque_ , I think. But I know that I can't be too careful here.

We could take Beo, but again, we'd need that element of surprise to help us.

It could also be Hartwin. He's another quiet type, but he doesn't have that soft atmosphere to him like Winchester. Of all of them, he might be the toughest competition, because I know he wants to get home, and fear that he wouldn't be afraid to kill to get there. He'd probably be the hardest to win over, except for maybe Beo, who is almost impossible to sway once he's started on something.

There are so many question marks in the air right now I don't know where to turn.

The only tribute we have any idea the placement of is Wyatt, who we followed into the temple. After entering the main room, he went right, so he's definitely not here. Unless he backtracked. Maybe he did. We could definitely take Wyatt. But the thought of bashing his head in made me the sickest of all, because I knew that Wyatt probably wouldn't fight back. I'm sure he's upset that Aaron's dead. They seemed to have some kind of connection that nobody else understood.

I can rule out the Careers, of course. The Careers would definitely be louder, and I'm sure they spent this afternoon scouring the supplies and taking everything they wanted, as well as everything they didn't want anyone else to have.

That leaves Trekker, Sequoia, Sondra, and Elias.

Sondra and Beo had been talking during training, but I'm not so sure that translated into an alliance. I can't assume that the shrill screams I heard were hers. I can't assume anything. It could be her, but I think Static and I could easily take her if we had to. Then again, she seemed popular with the sponsors, and out of everyone the most open to alliances, so maybe we could get her to join us for a while, and have some kind of supplies.

Trekker, Sequoia, and Elias were all talking in various combinations during training, but I couldn't assume anything. We could probably take any of them by themselves, but I saw Sequoia run towards the Cornucopia as I was running away from it, so it's totally possible that she has a weapon. If that's the case we're toast. Sequoia's an older tribute, and a powerhouse. We'd have to beg her for mercy. Trekker isn't anything to snuff at either, especially not if he has a weapon. Elias is one that we could probably convince to tag along with us if it really got down to it, so I wouldn't be too worried about him. But, if they're together, we might be in trouble. Especially if we're outnumbered.

My mind keeps racing. I try to stop it, I honestly try to stop thinking about the Games, hoping to get sleep, but it's starting to feel hopeless.

The fear of having to fight someone else with our bare hands is strong. We have nothing but a rock to protect us. And that rock isn't big enough to just throw at someone's head. If we want to survive, we're going to have to feel another human's skull crack. The thought alone brings bile to my throat. I close my eyes and shift, trying to stay in the present. No use worrying about that now… I have to live here, in the present. And if I want to have a chance, I have to be rested. After what feels like an eternity of sleeplessness while Static strokes my hair, I doze into an uneasy sleep.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: It's almost been three months T.T**_

 _ **I'm really sorry this story hasn't been updated in so long, I've been wound up in other projects and just haven't had the inspiration for it. Luckily, thanks Torque, I got a burst of it for this chapter. My New Year's resolution for this story is to update it once for every two updates of my full SYOT, Danzón, so hopefully we can get to the good stuff by the time this story is one year old in March. Thanks for your patience! I promise we'll get brushed up on the submitted tributes some more before more tributes start dying, this is just my "this story still exists and I should get back into the swing of it!" chapter. From here on out, updates will (hopefully) be more consistent!**_

 _ **So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter even though nothing really happened. I wanted to check up on who was still reading before I decide too much more about the death order.**_

 _ **So this Arena is based off of a TV show, if anyone wants to take a wild guess at which one :P I need some more ideas for rooms but I'll figure it out in due time.**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Just so I know who I need to focus on, which submitted tribute do you remember the least, and which of my remaining six tributes do you remember the least? Or really, who would you like to see more of, both submitted and mine?**_

 _ **If you want to know how many points everyone has, here's the updated list:**_

 _ **Scores:**_

 _ **AbbyCorabby123: 10**_

 _ **A-Bookworm-Named-Steph: 41**_

 _ **aceswims: 25**_

 _ **AKLNxStories: 25**_

 _ **AmericanPi: 70**_

 _ **Apollo's Slytherpuff Daughter: 113**_

 _ **bagelswift: 2**_

 _ **Beauty. Is. Strange: 61**_

 _ **bLizzieard: 10**_

 _ **Blonde4ever: 62**_

 _ **bobothebear: 14**_

 _ **calebbeers21: 6**_

 _ **Coolgal02: 61**_

 _ **CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean: 110**_

 _ **CptAwesome: 10**_

 _ **Culturalchicken: 2**_

 _ **DaughterOfTigris: 25**_

 _ **david12341: 55**_

 _ **deathless. smile: 15**_

 _ **District7axemurder: 15**_

 _ **Dreamer: 855**_

 _ **dreams and desperation: 120**_

 _ **Duchess of Irony (Guest): 10**_

 _ **eldergrayskull: 4**_

 _ **elisa. anya: 5**_

 _ **Emrys Holmes: 98**_

 _ **TheEngineeringGames: 70**_

 _ **epictomguy: 24**_

 _ **erica1024 (I'm assuming you're the same person who reviewed as a guest named Erica, but let me know if you're not!): 16**_

 _ **falyn. oliver: 43**_

 _ **FanOfMaggie: 10**_

 _ **Feniks16: 10**_

 _ **GalacticCoach: 9**_

 _ **GirlOnFire (assuming you were also the guest with no title): 20**_

 _ **Golden Moon Huntress: 50**_

 _ **GryffindorOnFire: 9**_

 _ **Guest (Unnamed): 10**_

 _ **goldie031: 9**_

 _ **hopefuldreamer1991: 272**_

 _ **Ibbonray: 35**_

 _ **Jalen Kun: 17**_

 _ **Jess: 607**_

 _ **johnsonmiranda70: 6**_

 _ **Josephm611: 277**_

 _ **judmud: 4**_

 _ **Kate: 743**_

 _ **Xx-Katerina-xX: 56**_

 _ **0KiCat0: 60**_

 _ **Kyoko Rose: 26**_

 _ **Lady Lysa Arryn: 127**_

 _ **Legend: 654**_

 _ **LGBT community (Guest): 5**_

 _ **li'l fat necrosis: 74**_

 _ **Littlefoot876: 2**_

 _ **Little Knight Mik: 10**_

 _ **LokiThisIsMadness: 140**_

 _ **magicharity: 163**_

 _ **Master Maedhros: 10**_

 _ **MissVolturiKingsfan: 10**_

 _ **misfit-right-in: 24**_

 _ **Medium-Indigo (Guest): 60**_

 _ **MicaaAmaya: 4**_

 _ **Music Rules The World: 4**_

 _ **Mystical Pine Forest: 30**_

 _ **nevergone4ever: 2**_

 _ **Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg: 4**_

 _ **OncerTillTheEnd: 4**_

 _ **xxPeppermintxx109: 159**_

 _ **Platrium: 64**_

 _ **PrimroseEverdeenmyLittleDuck: 10**_

 _ **Programming: 7**_

 _ **xQueen-of-Applesx: 40**_

 _ **rising-balloons: 80**_

 _ **Red Roses1000: 5**_

 _ **ReignRain: 2**_

 _ **rosecatforever: 50**_

 _ **Rosemarie Benson: 12**_

 _ **Sagerose the Divergent: 10**_

 _ **santiago. poncini20: 116**_

 _ **Seahorse8: 32**_

 _ **seaotter99: 22**_

 _ **Shaunaicecream (Guest): 20**_

 _ **ShunKazamis-Girl: 26**_

 _ **Singlewave: 15**_

 _ **stop-pulling-on-mariazell: 30**_

 _ **Sparky She-Demon: 14**_

 _ **superneet1214: 6**_

 _ **Skyflapple: 21**_

 _ **starrymidnight16: 4**_

 _ **ThisWorldWeHate: 17**_

 _ **tracelyn: 35**_

 _ **TyeTheLurker (Guest): 65**_

 _ **VeneratedArt: 30**_

 _ **the victor of panem: 71**_

 _ **We're All Okay: 71**_

 _ **W. R. Winters: 316**_

 _ **Xechaste: 4**_

 _ **youngpatriot: 44**_


	17. The Shrine of the Silver Monkey

_The second day_

-Whimsy, D1F-

After hearing the screams last night, nobody slept well. The mood went from sleepover to nightmare in a second and a half. I was liking the sleepover mood we had going, it was fun. Even if Bellona and Branden were party poopers. I think Branden was just too afraid of us asking about his puppy crush on his District partner. Although, Ezie and Tempest were pretty snug last night too. Oh, I love drama. I wonder what's going to happen next. This is quality entertainment right here. I'm so interested that I don't even care that it's her that they're all after and not me.

Alma and I are on watch when the sun rises, painting the sky with color. I can't help but think about home when I see it. Glow and Amaze and Quality. Brisk. I can't help but wonder what it makes Alma think about. Maybe friends and family like me. Maybe he just likes the colors. Maybe he doesn't care. I feel like we have a moment there, though, even if neither of us talks. It would be the last sunrise we saw for a while, and I'm glad we got to enjoy it together.

I wonder what the sunset makes Yin Kozart think about. After all, he's the one that made it, right? He's the one that swirled the sky with pinks and reds, colored the clouds periwinkle, and brought the shining golden orb up to the sky. Did it make him think of his friends and family?

I wonder what his story is. I wonder what his family's like. I wonder why he chose to be a Head Gamemaker. I wonder what the job means to him. I wonder how he got inspiration for this Arena. I wonder what lies ahead. It's exciting to be curious. It's even more exciting to find answers. Everyone knows the saying _"curiosity killed the cat"_ but how many people know the end of it? Curiosity may have killed the cat, but discovery brought him back to life.

Alma and I sit in silence for a while, watching the sky together. Even if I know it isn't real, I still like to think about my friends and family watching the sun rise at home.

It's not the same sun. That part sends a pang of homesickness through my chest. After all, I've never been away from home for more than a couple days at most, and now I've been away from not just my home, but not my District, for a week. Now I'm here. I have no idea where geographically it is. But I know that it's not home. Even though I volunteered, and I know that I'm plenty capable of making it home, I still have to feel just a touch homesick. You can't tell me that some of these other outer-District tributes that have never been away from home don't feel the same way.

"Y'alright there?" Alma asks quietly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah. Of course." I give him a smile. "Time of our lives, right?"

"Yeah. Right."

I understand how he feels, I feel the same way. We both feel this way, but we can't reassure each other. I can't tell him he'll get back there someday. Not when we're both fully aware of what we signed up for. He can't tell me that I'll make it home. We just can't. Not when we know what has to happen to get back.

"We should wake the others up." He nods and we get to shaking the others awake. They're all bleary and tired, but sit up eventually and we get to having some breakfast together. They don't even give a second look to the sky, but I don't think I would have wanted them to.

Tempest stands up, giving us all a confident grin. "Ready to see what's in store?" she asks. After last night, I don't feel ready, but I suck up the anxiety, square up my shoulders, and nod when the others affirm. We collect our supplies and take out our flashlights.

The backpack is heavy on my shoulders as Tempest leads the way, the rest of us following.

The first room in the Temple is dimly lit from the outside light coming in, and we can see two pathways before us, one on the left and one on the right.

"First big decision, boss. Which way first?" Alma pipes up. "Unless you want to be democratic about it, of course."

"What do you think?" she asks nobody in particular.

"My guess is that the right way has more tributes," Ezie says. "It feels more natural to go that way, doesn't it?"

"I agree for right," Bellona says.

"Then again, there could be tributes on the left too," Branden says. Maybe he thinks that, maybe he's just contradicting Ezie, who knows?

"Maybe they want to trick us by going left," Alma says. "Who knows?"

"Whimsy?" Tempest glances at me.

"I'd say right."

"Right it is." Tempest starts walking and the rest of us follow her. We each have a flashlight, an advantage that not many other tributes share.

We venture into the musty, dusty tunnel, staying cautious. Alma has a scythe, I have a spear in my hands, Bellona has a sword, Ezie has a katana, Tempest has her belt of knives, and Branden has a trident. We're a very fit group of Careers with a very diverse span of talents, if I do say so myself. Somehow, there were no big fights over the weapons. It's probably a good thing, because the moment one thing drops the results aren't gonna be pretty.

At the end of the tunnel is a narrow pathway that leads to a bigger area of ground in the center of a room that is surrounded by darkness. When we reach the circular ledge, we stop, looking around.

"Is there a ground to fall on?" Tempest asks, crouching down to squint into the darkness that eats the beam of her flashlight.

"Hard to tell from here," Bellona says.

"Guys, look over there." Ezie points with the beam of his flashlight. In the light, we see an assortment of ropes. We approach the ropes.

"It looks like you could choose to swing on that side, or…" He shines the light on a bridge. "We take the bridge."

"Good job Ezie!" Tempest says, and I resist the temptation to shine the light on Branden's face to see how he reacts. "Let's go this way then. Unless anyone has a better idea?"

The rest of us shake our heads and Tempest steps out onto the bridge slowly. It doesn't break under her weight, so Ezie steps on next. After him, Branden goes, then Alma, then Bellona, then me. I step as gingerly as I can, following the others slowly. The bridge is pretty steady, and the ropes on the sides that I grab for balance are tied tightly. Thanks Yin. The bridge stretches longer than you'd expect it to, and when Tempest squeaks in surprise, I practically jump out of my skin. It may be steady, but it's not exactly easy to navigate with a huge-ass backpack on your shoulders, and a weapon and flashlight in your hands.

"Watch your step," she says, "The bridge ends here."

One by one, the rest of us step onto the solid ground, which is a relief. I was starting to get anxious about continuing to walk on the bridge. Usually, I would be the type that would sway the bridge to scare the others, but now I can't take any risks.

I refuse to die because of a stupid mistake on my part. That would just solidify everyone's notion that I'm nothing but a stupid party girl. That just because I'm promiscuous, I'm a ditz. That I only know how to use my looks to get what I want and can't do anything without the ulterior motive of sex. Just because I like to dance I can't do simple math. Just because I'm blond I don't know how to spell or talk coherently. I refuse to let them reduce me to that. Whimsy Chandler is curious, and likes gossip, and likes sex and attends parties, and goofs around sometimes and is silly, and loves to have fun, but she's also a fighter. By making it home, I'll prove that.

Tempest walks into the tunnel and the rest of us follow, keeping high guard. Who knows when a surprise attack will come? I refuse to let my guard down.

"Keep your guard up."

The room is lit by a couple of torches and a small window that lets the sunlight in. In the middle of the room is an object, some silver piece, put on a pedestal. I can't really tell what it is from a distance.

"Okay, I think we're good," Tempest whispers, and we disperse, looking around. Branden, Tempest, and Ezie scale the room for some kind of exit, while I examine the little silver shape. It looks like a body of some sort, with little hands and little feet, and a long tail.

"What are you?" I ask, in awe, when I hear an exclamation.

A fight has broken out. When I turn to look at the scene, I see the strong boy from Three, Winchester, struggling against Branden. I'm surprised he hid, as he's definitely big and strong enough to have pushed past us and tried to go, but when it's six against one, it's kind of hard to do much of anything. Poor kid. Probably thought he had a real chance. If it had been any other tributes crossing his path, he probably would have.

He is pretty skillful with the knife in close-combat, though, and in the split second it takes the rest of us to react, he's slashed across Branden's chest. Not lethal, just painful as fuck I'm sure. The rest of my allies burst forward to end Winchester before he causes Branden any more pain, but I'm preoccupied when Tempest bumps into the pedestal, which starts to wobble, and the strange little statue threatens to fall off.

I catch it just in time, as the 3 boy releases a final scream that's cut off by Bellona's sword being buried in his chest.

A cannon booms for Winchester, and then it goes into silence. I hear heavy breathing and my heart pounds in my chest as I hug the strange little statue close to me. It's so shiny, and I'm just so curious about it. I just couldn't risk letting it break. It's a good thing I caught it, because upon feeling it, it feels to be made of clay. I notice that there's an indent in the top of it, that looks almost like a rod could be placed in the statue. Curiosity is killing me by now: I have to know what the deal with this statue is.

While the others are asking if Branden's alright, I put the pedestal back up and place the statue back on top of it.

"Whimsy? What are you doing?" Bellona gives me a strange look.

"Oh, sorry. It just fell and I didn't want it to break."

Bellona rolls her eyes at me. I know she thinks I'm materialistic and ditzy, but I'll let her think what she wants. I can wait to really show what I can do until later. I look at the strange little thing and wonder if something might be missing from it. That's how it seems.

"It's a dead end," Tempest says decidedly, as the room begins to reek of blood. I wonder how the Capitol will get the tributes out of the rooms. Or if they will. I don't want to stay around here much longer, but I can't help my curiosity.

"Wait!" I call before the others turn around to go. "I think there might be a missing piece to that statue!"

"Why does that matter?" Branden asks. Alma looks like he wants to support me in this fight, but really truly doesn't.

"Who knows?"

"It could trigger a trap," Tempest says. "All opposed to staying and looking here?" Everyone in the alliance raises their hand except for one. Tempest raises her eyebrow at Ezie. "No?"

"I think she's right. Only good things can happen, right?"

"Wrong," Branden says, hostility in his voice. I snicker a bit at that.

"Something really good could happen though," I say. "Shouldn't we at least look?"

"This could just be a waste of time," Tempest says.

"But it could be a new discovery, punk," Ezie says. "You can't tell me you're not the least bit curious."

"Well…" Tempest huffs a bit. "Fine. But we're not going to waste more than twenty minutes exploring. It stinks in here."

"It smells awful," Bellona says, sounding slightly disgruntled.

I start searching, frantically. What if this is just a mistake and they get angry at me? Or, worse, what if it triggers a trap? I'd be the one to blame. We keep looking, scouring our flashlights across every single inch of the place. My heart starts to pound and I become nervous, worried that I've lead my allies astray. Maybe there's nothing here.

"Here! Guys, check this out!" Ezie says, and the rest of us crowd around him. He gets on his knees. "This brick's offset. I bet if we just…" He starts wiggling it, trying to get it to move. To our absolute shock, he removes the brick. However, no sunlight appears through the hole like we would expect. Instead, the block is revealed to be hollow, and within it is a little, almost-spherical silver object attached to a rod. When I pick it up, I see that it's not just a sphere, engraved on it is a little face that looks like the monkeys we'd seen in our textbooks.

"How the hell did you notice that!?" Tempest asks, but she doesn't sound upset. She sounds more amazed. "I checked that spot five different times."

Ezie smirks and shrugs. "Guess I'm just that much more observant, Punk."

"Who are you calling punk!?" Tempest protests, and I leave them to their bickering. Truth is, I just want to see what it does.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Alma growls in my ear.

"Nope!" I say, grinning a bit. So much for the not dying by making a dumb mistake thing. I was just so curious. Slowly, I attached the head to the little body. We heard a noise, something that sounded like something sliding on stone, and then the room remains silent.

"Great! We didn't die." I beam.

"But… What happened?"

"I don't know, but I think we should get out of here, I'm starting to get a headache from the smell," Bellona says, sounding annoyed.

"Something happened in the room though," Ezie says. "It sounded like… A hatch opening? I think we should look."

"I agree!" I say, hoping that this time spent searching was worth it, at least a little bit.

"Alright. Let's do one more quick search-through of the room before we leave."

I give a glance to the little silver monkey statue. "What did you do for us?" I ask it, before we look around for any signs of a change.

This time, I find it. It's kind of small, a little square opening, but when I shine my flashlight, I can see what it is.

"A tunnel!" I say, and the others crowd around me. "Look." I point in, and the others look too.

"Woah…"

"There's one over here too," Bellona says, sounding more interested now.

"So, left or right?" I wonder, looking between them.

"Up to you, Punk!" Ezie says, causing Tempest to sigh and roll her eyes. "Well, we went right last time, so I say left. Any big objections?" Nobody spoke. "Alright. Who's going first?"

I step forward. I got us into this situation, and I'll lead us to victory. "I will." I swallow hard and try to lighten the mood. "And whoever wants a faceful of my ass will go second." The others laugh, but the mood doesn't stay light for long.

I get on my hands and knees and crawl through the dark tunnel, guided by the beam of my flashlight, leading on into the unknown.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: R.I.P. Winchester. Thanks a lot for him, Criss! We will see more of him in flashbacks and through other tributes' POVs, though, don't worry!**_

 _ **Alright, glad to be back into the swing of this story! I think one Masque for every two Danzóns is going to work out really well. Especially now that I have a better idea of what the temple layout is. It just took some planning. Now I know where everyone is and have planned out the next few days of interactions and deaths. I was actually going to put a Wyatt POV in here, but this chapter was getting lengthy so I'll get to it first thing next chapter! I'm really glad to have some direction for this story again, because for a long time I didn't :D Expect more action-packed updates to come!**_

 _ **Thanks a bunch to those who are still reading and reviewing, your support means a bunch! :D I love and appreciate every review this story gets and I like to hear your feedback! Also, sponsoring is open and can still change the death order and make me rearrange some things, so don't be shy to sponsor a tribute!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Where do you think the tunnel will lead? To a trap? Dead end? Some kind of room, either that's already been shown or hasn't been shown yet? What fate do you predict for our dear Careers?**_

 _ **Scores:**_

 _ **Note- With the new year, I took a lot of users that haven't actively read/reviewed my stories in a long while off the list, if you believe you have points and don't see your name on the list, feel free to send me a PM.**_

 _ **Last updated: 1/16/17 on 42PT17**_

 _ **Scores:**_

 _ **aceswims: 25**_

 _ **AKLNxStories: 45**_

 _ **AmericanPi: 90**_

 _ **Apollo's Slytherpuff Daughter: 113**_

 _ **bLizzieard: 20**_

 _ **bobothebear: 14**_

 _ **calebbeers21: 6**_

 _ **Coolgal02: 61**_

 _ **CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean: 110**_

 _ **DaughterOfTigris: 25**_

 _ **david12341: 75**_

 _ **deathless. smile: 15**_

 _ **District7axemurder: 15**_

 _ **Dreamer: 885**_

 _ **dreams and desperation: 120**_

 _ **Emrys Holmes: 98**_

 _ **TheEngineeringGames: 90**_

 _ **epictomguy: 24**_

 _ **Feniks16: 10**_

 _ **GalacticCoach: 9**_

 _ **Golden Moon Huntress: 74**_

 _ **goldie031: 14**_

 _ **hopefuldreamer1991: 282**_

 _ **Jess: 607**_

 _ **judmud: 4**_

 _ **Kate: 768**_

 _ **0KiCat0: 70**_

 _ **Lady Lysa Arryn: 127**_

 _ **Legend: 654**_

 _ **Littlefoot876: 5**_

 _ **Little Knight Mik: 10**_

 _ **LokiThisIsMadness: 140**_

 _ **Master Maedhros: 10**_

 _ **MissVolturiKingsfan: 10**_

 _ **misfit-right-in: 44**_

 _ **Mystical Pine Forest: 30**_

 _ **Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg: 4**_

 _ **OncerTillTheEnd: 4**_

 _ **xxPeppermintxx109: 159**_

 _ **Platrium: 64**_

 _ **Programming: 7**_

 _ **rosecatforever: 65**_

 _ **Rosemarie Benson: 12**_

 _ **ShunKazamis-Girl: 26**_

 _ **Singlewave: 15**_

 _ **stop-pulling-on-mariazell: 30**_

 _ **Sparky She-Demon: 14**_

 _ **tracelyn: 35**_

 _ **TyeTheLurker (Guest): 65**_

 _ **VeneratedArt: 30**_

 _ **the victor of panem: 71**_

 _ **We're All Okay: 71**_

 _ **W. R. Winters: 316**_

 _ **Xechaste: 4**_

 _ **youngpatriot: 44**_


	18. Everything but a Manly Roar

_The Second Night_

-Wyatt's POV-

I probably shouldn't be alive right now.

I'm still quivering at the noise of the cannon that proclaimed Winchester's death. His face had just disappeared from the sky. I had a leaf in my mouth, from some of the growth that was sprouting on the walls. It's not good, it's not substantial, but it's something. It'll at least give me something to do, something to pretend that I'm doing okay.

I fear the day I'm going to have to leave this room. It will be soon, seeing as there's no water anywhere near, and no real food. It's just… Horrifying. The thought of Elise and Stanton watching back home is killing me. Stanton knows that next year, he'll be eligible to suffer the same fate. Elise isn't ready to be the oldest Calistro child. I was barely ready, and I had to take the responsibility years ago. I knew what it was like to be thrown front and center. It was a wake-up call. A much too early wake-up call.

The masks have eyes.

Maybe they don't really have eyes, but it sure does feel like they do. It feels like they're staring at me, watching me, surveying me. I've been trying to forget that the entire nation could possibly be watching every second, but with so many empty black shapes surrounding me, I couldn't help but remember.

I had cracked and lit a torch for some light. I couldn't sleep in the dark, not after all that happened. Everything was a threat. Every noise was a tribute coming to kill me. Every movement was someone hiding in the shadows. Every breath was one breath closer to possible death. Every movement could have been the fatal flaw that caused me to bite the dust. It was hard to not be paranoid.

I sat in the room, not wanting to sleep. I didn't want to sleep after what I'd heard last night. The sounds of Sondra being killed. They carried through the whole temple, but sounded eerily close to where I was.

After entering the Arena, I ran to the right pathway, all the way until the pit. I grabbed the rope that was hanging, deciding to take a risk and try to jump across by swinging the rope. The rope slid out of my hands as I tried to jump, and suddenly I was falling. I was falling into the darkness, I was sure that I was falling to my death. Stanton and Elise were down an older brother. Then I hit the ground.

It hurt to fall from such a distance, though. My wrist is still throbbing with pain, and I have scrapes on my elbows, feet, and knees from hitting the ground. However, once I was lower, I eventually found a pathway to go through.

However, while I was wandering around blindly I did feel divets in the wall. Probably if you wanted to try to climb back up. I was okay where I was, though. I heard the creaking I could only assume to be the bridge above me moving, and just as I was searching along the wall I heard voices.

" _Woah."_

" _Holy shit…"_

 _I recoiled, knowing that two strong tributes had just entered the pit. Sequoia from 7 and Trekker from 8 were up above me._

" _Is this a dead end?" I heard Elias from 11 speaking as well. So they must be a threesome. Surely these tributes were bright enough to know that alliances more than three were just asking for trouble._

" _It can't be, I saw Winchester come this way," Sequoia rationalized. "Hulking huge boys from Three don't just disappear out of thin air, do they?"_

" _No," both the boys said, sounding puzzled._

 _I continued to feel around, but kept my ears open. Hearing their conversation would only help me later._

" _Besides, it wouldn't make sense for one of the first rooms is a dead end. Otherwise that would call for a very short, very bloody Games."_

" _That means there has to be some kind of pathway!" Sequoia proclaimed decidedly. "And we're going to find it!"_

" _We could go back…" Trekker started slowly. "This room isn't giving good vibes."_

" _Are there any good rooms in a Hunger Games arena?" Sequoia asked, and I physically heard the slap she delivered, probably to his shoulder or back. "C'mon. Let's take a risk."_

" _This isn't a place for risks," Trekker said pointedly. "Try thinking about your family for once. This isn't just… A stupid game."_

" _There's a rope over there," Elias offered, bringing the bickering allies back to the present. The alliance went silent for a while, and I kept moving, skimming the wall._

" _Oh, this is sick!" Sequoia said at last, actually sounding excited._

" _This makes me sick," Trekker said quietly, and Elias grunted in agreement._

" _Come on, haven't you ever wanted to try something like this?"_

" _No," Trekker said. "Especially not in a fight to the_ death _."_

" _Roza's probably sooooo jealous right now, oh man, and so're Moria and Celina!"_

 _I heard a deep sigh come from Trekker. "Then I bet you wouldn't mind going first."_

" _Of course I wouldn't!" There was a pause as she laughed, seemingly more a happy laugh than nervous._

" _Sequoia!" Trekker said, his voice weaker._

" _Hm?"_

 _There was a pause. "Be careful."_

 _Another pause. Sequoia spoke, her voice slightly quieter than before. "I will."_

 _I found a passageway just then, square-shaped, just enough that I could crawl through. Not seeing any other options, that's what I did._

And so I ended up in the room of masks. Then, Sondra was killed, and after that, Winchester. The District 3 tributes' faces flashed in the sky together.

Sondra was pretty talkative, but Cash told me to avoid the pretty ones. Especially the ones that were clearly using their beauty to get ahead, like her. I didn't want an ally anyways, and if I would have wanted one it would have been someone I felt I could trust, someone that I understood. Aaron. But Aaron, though we'd had some conversations nonverbally, was so devoted to his District partner I decided not to pursue it.

I made the mistake of mentioning that advice at dinner, which only made Isa gush about her allies. Lindsay was so good at identifying berries, Lindsay learned how to make a trap today, Lindsay is really smart, she's really observant, Amy's pretty good at that stuff as well.

They're dead. All of them, dead.

Isa was a year older than Elise, and she was dead. Next year, Elise could be here. I'm sure last year Isa's older brothers never thought she'd be reaped.

I try to push the thoughts of my District partner away. I can't focus on her, not right now. Somewhere in the back of my head, I feel like she wouldn't want me to. After all, now that her allies are gone, I would hope that I'd be her next choice for Victor. I mean, I didn't do anything to make her dislike me, and who wouldn't want their families to be fed, right?

Isa had brothers. Parents. Friends. They must be hurting. Isa talked and talked about her older brother Tulio, who she was really close with, and some of his attractive friends. She talked about her other brothers, Ramon and Enzo, who she didn't talk to as much because they were more withdrawn. And, of course, her friends. Dot, her best friend, Ned, Dot's cousin and another friend, and Aileen, another friend. And, Lindsay. You would've thought those two knew each other for years and years, not just a measly couple of days.

Thinking about that makes my heart sink to my stomach. I can't think about it. I can't afford to. I have to focus on now. On the chance that by some miracle I might actually be able to get out of here.

If there's one thing that my shyness has blessed me with, it's an ability to read people. I couldn't see the trio up on the pit, but I could imagine what they were doing by the sounds of their voices. I was able to connect with Aaron because we could both read each other's expressions and realize whatever message we were trying to relay. It's the one thing that I have that not a lot of tributes don't. I don't doubt that there are other tributes that have an ability like mine, I'm sure Torque from 5 can do it, and Tempest has always seemed keen on others' emotions. And Ezie. He's been reading people like books, I can see it from the looks in his eyes when he was surveying the competition at training.

Surprisingly, the tribute that is the worst at reading other people is also the one that is the best at reading books. For some reason, Beo just can't connect with other people, it seems. The only tribute he really connected with was Sondra, probably because it was a simple strategy he understood. It's almost like there's some kind of bar in his brain keeping him from reading people's emotions and moods, or if he's just really bad with expressions, or what. Maybe he was neglected as a child or something.

I can't forget some of his unconventional mannerisms, and his failure to understand sarcasm, and failing to understand the deeper-than-literal meaning of some of Caesar's questions, namely "What do you read?" For a tribute that has such a knowledge of the English language, Beo sure doesn't understand the world. Plus, he has absolutely no filter. For someone that reads so much, you'd think he'd have at least some tact, right? Maybe it's just a game he's playing. Maybe he has all of us figured out. But I'm starting to think that maybe he's been his honest-to-god self this entire time after all.

However, the ability to read people will only get me so far. If I end up in a fight with anyone, I'm as good as doomed. Can I really fight back? Especially without a proper weapon that makes killing easy? The answer is no, of course not. If I'm not careful, I'll just die as wordlessly as I've lived.

Winchester was like me, too. I could see it. He just wasn't as open to conversation about it. I could tell from the way he trained that it wasn't something he was familiar with. He was used to being a gentle guy, even if he worked hard. The only thing he seemed comfortable doing was lifting weights, probably because it was his work back home, if I had to guess. He talked about two younger sisters. Two parents he loved. So many people that were probably hurting right now, missing him. I know he was just trying to do what he had to in order to get back to them, which is what hurt more than anything. I can only imagine he ended up ambushed by the Careers, otherwise he definitely would have taken someone out with him. He was a huge guy, and though he seemed pretty soft, he was determined to get back home.

He would never get there.

I probably should have died before him. He had the potential to win, really, more than me, more than Elias and Torque and Static, more than most of us. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I heard a drip just then and jumped, looking around frantically. I was much too easily spooked here. I knew it wasn't good for my mental health to stay here, being paranoid and jumpy, but I saw no other safe option for the moment. Could I really climb all the way back up the pit? Who knew who was in which other room? I hated the thought that a tribute could be coming towards me at any minute and I might not even know. Not to mention the fact that before I could get back home, I'd have to steal a life, at least one, maybe more.

These tributes have family, but so do I. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

I still remember what Cash told me about my chances.

" _One of the most negative effects of how you were raised is that you have absolutely no sense of self-importance. True?"_

" _Wh-What?" I asked, surprised he would say something like that. I'd heard a lot of bad reasons to be shy, mostly because I wouldn't have friends and I'd be lonely, but never something like that. I'd never thought of it that way._

" _You're so used to throwing yourself under the bus that you'll do the same thing when it really matters. Have you ever stood up and said 'I'm Wyatt Calistro, and I'm important!'?"_

 _I squeaked a little bit. "No!"_

" _That's gonna be your biggest weakness in there, kid. It's not gonna be your lack of proper training or your speed or your strength or your smarts. Not you. Your challenge is to start believing in yourself." He poked my chest._

" _Oh… Uh-"_

" _You can't afford to give up your chance for someone else because they dominate you."_

" _Oh…"_

" _So. Right now. We're gonna do it right now." Cash stood up, and motioned for me to do the same. "Repeat after me." I nodded. "I am Wyatt Calistro."_

 _I felt horribly awkward and didn't see the point of this. "I am Wyatt Calistro."_

 _Cash put his hands on my shoulders and pushed them back. "Stand up straight and tall."_

 _I did as he said._

" _Say it again."_

" _I am Wyatt Calistro."_

" _No, no. Say it like this." When he spoke again, his voice boomed. "I am Wyatt Calistro!"_

 _I hated being loud. I so hated it. I shifted and spoke up slightly "I am Wyatt Calistro."_

" _Don't be afraid to be loud. Nobody's going to yell at you."_

" _I don't like having the attention," I said, shifting uncomfortably._

" _The best way to believe in yourself is to fake it," Cash said with a smirk and a wink._

" _I am Wyatt Calistro." I said, trying to sound confident like Isa._

" _Repeat after me again." He put his hands on his hips, squaring his feet, and boomed. "I am Wyatt Calistro and I am important!"_

 _I tried to copy him, but my voice wasn't powerful like his. Never has been. "I am Wyatt Calistro and I am important."_

" _You're not even pretending to believe what you're saying," he said._

" _Sorry… It's a lot to focus on."_

" _Say it again. This time, don't focus on anything except for believing what you're saying as truth. Again. I am Wyatt Calistro and I am important!"_

 _I swallow hard, focusing on the words. "I am Wyatt Calistro and I am important!" I just can't believe it. I can say the words, and know that I should believe them. There's no reason not to. But for some reason, I just can't fully, truly believe them. It's a strange feeling. Any other time I could believe them. Sid is important. Elise and Stanton are important. My mother is important. Why can't I believe that I am, too?_

" _It's how you've been living for sixteen years," Cash said, as if reading my thoughts. "It's going to take more than a couple seconds to change that."_

" _One more time."_

" _I'm Wyatt Calistro and I am important!"_

" _Try this one." He clears his throat a bit before he speaks. "I am Wyatt Calistro and I am more important than Isa."_

" _I c-can't say that Cash! I'm not."_

" _In the Hunger Games, you have to be. You don't want to die. Sure, maybe some of these tributes have more friends and family than you do, but they're not_ your _friends and family. Who's more important to you, Wyatt? Your little 11-year-old brother, or some stranger you've never met?"_

 _I swallowed hard. "B-But."_

" _I'm not saying it's a mindset that's_ right _. I'm saying it's what you have to have in a fight to the death. Nobody's going to be looking out for you there, Wyatt. You're on your own. They want you to think you're less important than them. You can't think that or else you're as good as dead. Say it. Believe it."_

 _I took a deep breath. "I'm Wyatt Calistro. And… And… And… I'm more… Important… Than Isa."_

" _Again. Believe it."_

" _I'm Wyatt Calistro and I'm more important than Isa."_

" _Again, like you mean it!"_

" _I'm Wyatt Calistro and I'm more important than Isa!"_

 _He said a couple more phrases, which I repeated: "I'm Wyatt Calistro and I'm more important than Linnea! I'm Wyatt Calistro and I'm more important than Static! I'm Wyatt Calistro and I'm more important than Hartwin!" I was starting to get louder, and it was starting to sound like I believed what I was saying, even if I didn't._

" _I'm Wyatt Calistro and I'm more important than Tempest La Rossa!"_

 _I hesitated, swallowing my words out of cold hard fear. Cash noticed my expression and relaxed his posture._

" _You have your work cut out for you then. This is important, though. I want the phrase: 'I'm Wyatt Calistro and I'm important' to be your mantra, okay? I want that to be your last thought before you go to bed every night, and the first one when you wake up each morning. I want you to think it when you're struggling with something, and think it when you've succeeded. I want you to think it so much that you start to believe it. I want you to imagine Stanton and Elise saying it, or your friends or your mother. Imagine them saying it because you know they mean it. They need you back to them. They're more important than anyone you face in that Arena, understand?"_

 _I gave a weak nod. I didn't know if I could do it, but I believed Cash and valued his advice._

" _Now, I'm going to ask you to do something that might be a bit out of your comfort zone, okay?" I nodded, albeit nervoulsy, so he continued. "I want you to go to your room, close the door, to the bathroom, close that door, step into the supply closet, this small little room on the very left in the back corner, shut that door, close your eyes, and scream."_

" _I couldn't-"_

" _It's a pretty much soundproof room, okay? Nobody will hear you. I just want you to go in there and imagine that you're approaching your father again after what he did. What he did to your family, to your mother, to you, Wyatt, is not okay. Stop making excuses for him. I want you to tell him everything you want to tell him. Don't. Lie. Don't try to save yourself. You are just as important as he is, so is your family. He hurt all of you. Call him out for it. Scream. Yell. Cry. It's okay to cry, don't be afraid of it. Your emotions are valid and important. Get it out. Then, when that's done, imagine those big bad Careers, or Beowulf, or even someone like Isa for all I care, and focus on the fact that they are ready to take you away from your family. And let 'em_ have _it."_

 _I blink at him. "What kind of mentoring strategy is that?"_

" _It's the Cash Walton strategy. Look, I'm not gonna make you do this. I'm not gonna breathe down your spine until you do. But I highly suggest that you do it if you want to survive. Or at least try. Alright?"_

 _I swallowed nervously. "Alright."_

" _It's not okay," he said again, causing my eyes to spring with tears. "What he did is not okay. So let him have it. Let all of them have it."_

 _I nodded and turned to go._

" _Wyatt." I turned around to face my mentor again. "Next time we'll work on the manly roar." I think it was an attempt at a joke, and any other time I would have laughed. Not now, though. It was so like Cash to try and hide things with a joke, though. That's what he always did, after all._

 _Cash turned and left, probably to chat with Isa, and I ran to my room. I knew, deep down, that Cash was right. I ran into my room, shut the door, then to the bathroom, hearing it slam behind me, and into the closet, where I let out the sobs. Nobody was here to bother with my sadness._

I am Wyatt Calistro. I am important.

 _I said it over and over again in my head as I wiped my eyes. I knew I would feel stupid doing this, but for Cash and myself and my family I had to try. "How could you leave us?" As soon as I said it I knew it sounded small and pathetic. My father would never listen to me if I kept talking scared. I braced my shoulders, reminding myself that no one could hear me, and said it again, this time letting my voice have a bite and trying not to feel sorry or anxious. "How could you leave us?"_

 _This is stupid. I knew it was stupid. Every cell of my being was tingling because it was stupid. I wanted to stop, but I didn't let myself._

" _Do you have any idea what you caused? Do you have any idea what happened when you left? Do you have any idea how much Mom had to work to try and keep us afloat?! Do you have any idea…" my voice trailed off into my usual silence. I took another breath, shaking a bit with nerves, and balled my fists. "Because of you, I lost my childhood. While my friends were playing, I was working, trying to put food into my siblings' mouths. Remember Mom, that pretty girl you left for a whore with a lot of money? Yeah, her?! Remember her? Remember the family you left behind? Remember that little boy you said you loved?! What happened to that, huh, you liar?!"_

 _I took a breath. I could feel anger, it was true anger, and it was trying to get out. But I'd built a wall against anger. Even if I wanted to let it out, it just felt so wrong that I couldn't help but restrain myself. It felt dirty and wrong, but I knew it needed to happen so I kept trying._

" _I wasn't allowed to have a childhood because of you. All that optimism, the smiles, they were all sucked right out of me." I thought of what kinds of angry words I knew that might help me let it out. "Fuck!" I hated swearing out loud. I so hated swearing out loud. It felt so wrong. So, so wrong. I felt horrible. "You left us to starve while you went and lived rich. And that's. Not. Okay." A small sob broke out of my throat, and I let it, though crying just made me feel worse. I had never done it before, I had spent so much time training myself not to._

" _You're the reason I couldn't crack. I became the head of this house when I was 12 and took tesserae. Oh yeah, tesserae, remember that thing that poor people have to take to avoid starvation!? It's probably because of that stupid tesserae that I'm here right now! Because of you!" It still didn't feel right. I didn't know if it ever would. "You're the reason I'm here! You're the reason I'm like this. Everything is your fault!" The rational side of me knew it wasn't true. I knew it wasn't all his fault. It was my fault. But right now, I was trying to let out my anger at him. "Remember your daughter Elise? Guess what, she might be the oldest child at 14! She might have to take care of Mom and Stanton all by herself! What if you lose all three of your kids to the Games, huh!? What then?!" The thought of my siblings being reaped was more scary then it was angering, though. Tears poured out of my eyes, but I just couldn't let out my anger. I just couldn't scream. I wasn't important enough for that._

 _I sunk down and buried my face in my knees, crying quietly. I didn't want to be heard. I didn't want others to be bothered by me. I didn't want to cause problems. I didn't want to confront anyone._

 _I am Wyatt Calistro. I am important._

I tried to believe it. I tried really hard. I felt like I was letting Cash down by not believing it. Letting Elise and Stanton down. Letting myself down. I just can't believe it. I can't just change myself so quickly, not after I'd worked so hard to be rational and avoid conflict.

I take a seat from where I'd paced around the room again before sitting back down and sticking another twig in my mouth.

 _I am Wyatt Calistro. I am more important than any tribute in this Arena._

I can only hope that I'll start to believe it before it's too late.


	19. Don't Get Attached To Your Allies, Folks

_**A/N: Trigger warning for mentions of self-harm toward the end of Trekker's POV on the third day.**_

* * *

 _The Second Night_

* * *

-Trekker's POV-

We sleep in a room full of artifacts. After spending the first night cramped into a claustrophobic little tunnel with nowhere to go if we were ambushed, it's definitely relaxing. The room seems to be a dead end, but that didn't matter at this point. We promised we would start looking for water and food tomorrow.

Sequoia is on watch now, and Elias is sleeping peacefully. Both nights, he was able to just curl up and doze off. Must be nice.

Even with room to stretch out, though, I don't feel tired at all. My heartbeat hasn't settled from the time we got here. It probably won't until I'm back home, back with Brister. I lay down with my eyes closed, trying to clear my mind enough to sleep. Sequoia was plenty capable of being on watch, she'd wake us if trouble came. I kept telling myself that, but I still couldn't fall asleep. Out of everyone in the Arena, including Elias, I trusted her the most.

Trust is dangerous, though. People lie, and have other motives, and after they're done with you, they leave. That's all this is, of course, it's a fight to the death. We're not going to be happily ever after here.

So why does my heart want so badly to trust? I know that trust will only hurt me: it always has, and it always will. Especially here. And yet, I've latched onto her, in a way. She's just really nice, I guess, I don't know. She makes me think of… Well, me. Before Bronx came into my life, that is. She's just got this personality that's infectious, that makes me wish that I could go back to that place before the real world shattered my heart. She makes me laugh, sometimes, and when I'm around her… I don't know, I just feel like maybe I could be that kind of person again someday. Of all times to meet her, it had to be here, now.

She could just be acting, after all. Maybe she's just leading us on and she'll kill us in our sleep. Why would anyone want to look out for me? Especially here?

As much as I want to trust her, I know that the only reason trust exists is to be broken. I've learned that lesson once. I owe it to myself to never have to face it again. If I can just keep everyone at an arm's length… Maybe that hurts me, but it hurts less than having to go through the stages of heartbreak all over again.

Nothing could ever hurt as much as that, except for maybe death. I don't know, though, sometimes I'm not all too convinced that's true.

I keep my eyes closed, hoping that if I pretend I'm asleep for long enough, my body will comply with my wishes. Elias snores quietly, and I envy him.

That seems to be all I've been since Bronx broke me. Envious and jealous. Angry. Upset. Insecure. How could he not see that? He's probably just not sorry.

 _Don't think about him now Trekker you dumb fuck,_ I scold myself, clenching my teeth. Seems I can't even do that. Why can't I just let go of him already? I've been trying everything to forget, but his words and actions and lies are still playing around in my head on repeat. It's horrible. Trust me, I'd like to forget just as much as everyone else wants me to. I'm just as sick of thinking about him and what he did as y'all are hearing about it. But I can't just… Let that go. How could he have thought that things would just go back to how they were after everything he did?! It wasn't fair to me to forgive him without as much as an apology, and I wasn't going to take it. I'd already invalidated myself enough. I can't just forget about it. I can't just move on. Maybe I'm broken or something, everyone else has long since stopped caring, including Bronx himself.

I definitely feel broken. I definitely am broken. I don't know how to fix myself, and I don't care enough to figure it out. Especially not in an Arena of all places, fighting to the death.

"You don't have to pretend if you don't wanna," Sequoia says quietly.

I jump a bit but continue laying still, not sure what to do or how to react.

"I mean you, Eight. Unless you're really trying to sleep?"

"No," I sigh, sitting up and cracking my back. The stone floor of the temple isn't exactly great to sleep on. "I can take watch."

Sequoia just shook her head. "I'm staying up. I'd rather stay up with you than lie awake and… Think."

"Thinking sucks," I say quietly, clenching my fists.

There was a silence, and more thoughts started to creep into my head like darkness falling over a meadow.

"I could really use some waffles right now."

I looked up at my ally, brows furrowing in confusion. "Huh?"

"By far the best food I've had since getting here. What about you?"

"Oh, um… Probably the cake from last night. Triple-chocolate, delicious fudge icing…" Thinking about it makes my mouth water, before I remember the bad memories that happened while I was eating it and sink.

"That sounds great," she says with a small smile. I thought about Brister trying some of the cake, his eyes lighting up and a grin spreading across his face as-

"I like my waffles with whipped cream and lots of syrup," Sequoia says, pulling me back to reality.

"Thanks," I breathed out, barely audible.

"Sure," she breathed back, before continuing. "All the breakfast foods are good here. But we should probably stop talking about food now…"

"Yeah, I guess so."

Another pause.

"My stylist has the coolest hair," she says. She goes on to talk about that for a while, and I listen quietly. Her words are pretty mindless, but they give me something to focus on that isn't destructive, which is what we both need.

She pauses, so I launch into talking about my stylist, middle-aged woman who actually has some kind of faith in me. I think she just likes me because I'm not an addict like the past two tributes to be worked on by her. It's been at least three or four years since she's gotten a tribute that's using the charming angle, as opposed to the hopeless snarky addict angle or the quiet, hulking, tough guy angle. I dunno. Whatever reason it is, I'm glad at least she believes in me.

"Nice," Sequoia says quietly. "So, there's her and… You implied that you knew Bronx beforehand-"

"I don't like to talk about that," I say, and she backs off of that.

"Well, you mentioned your brother in your interview. What's he like?"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Brister is my everything. He's ten. He still has a lot of life to live. He's… He's light. Like, imagine a dark room with a tiny little lantern that shines so bright the room is full of light. That's Brister. In my dark life, he's a source of light. I…" I shut my mouth. I've said too much already, dammit Trekker why do you have to be so stupid?! I swallow a lump in my throat and shake my head a bit. "We can't do this."

"Huh?"

"We can't be friends, Sequoia. We can't talk like this."

"Why not?"

"Because, it'd be too painful… Look, we're allies, that's what it has to be."

"Oh. I see. Yeah, I guess you're right, I just figured… Y'know, if we had a clue what the other had waiting, if the worst were to happen…" she trails off and stares at the wall. "Never mind. Stupid thought."

We sit in silence for a while. I bite my lip, trying to keep my heart from bursting with the question, but soon I can't control it. "You have a lot to get back to, don't you?"

She looks up, seeming surprised. "Trekker, we don't have to talk about this… You're right, it's better not to know. I know you could've been close with Abigail if you wanted but you're right, it's better to just stay… Removed."

"I don't know if I could have been friends with Abigail," I say, trying to force a laugh. "She's so quiet and distant and awkward. Er, um, she was."

"Tomer was pretty quiet too," Sequoia said quietly. "Didn't want to talk much. He was really well-intentioned, though."

"Yeah," I say quietly. The silence hangs in the air for a while, neither of us saying anything.

"Five siblings," Sequoia says quietly. "I'm the second oldest." She concludes there, leaving it up to me to decide if she should continue.

I bite my lip. I shouldn't ask for more. It's only going to hurt more later when we're put against each other. It's bound to happen someday if we stay alive for a while. She doesn't seem hesitant to kill, and I could never win in a fight against her already, let alone if the two of us were… Friends.

My heart feels like it's ready to burst. I used to feel this way all of the time, but the feeling of empathy, of wanting to know people and walk in their shoes, had faded after all that happened. I used to approach people who looked sad or angry and try to talk in them, hear their story, walk in their shoes. That empathy, that desire to know people, went away after Bronx broke me. I was just constantly mad and selfish, I didn't care what other people thought. I didn't want them to open up to me, and I certainly refused to open up to them. It was gone, but now, it's back. Nobody had made me feel like this since I shut down.

Now was the definitely the worst possible time for my heart to come back to life.

"You talked about them during your interview."

"Oh yeah. They're… They're all so important to me. I miss my oldest sister Tara, she's married and moved out of our camp… Roza and I always had such fun working and being outside together. She just started working this year but she's a natural already. Rex isn't as big a fan of the manual labor part, but if I won he could have a job he actually… Liked. In the District. Mabel is a little troublemaker, but she's so bright and talented, I know she'll do amazing things. And Angio will be a really good lumberjack someday if he works hard. Maybe he'd change his mind if we could have a better life though…" She paused. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

I hate how interested I am. It must just be something about her personality. My only friend from back home is Una, and Una's a lot rougher than Sequoia. After everything that happened, I just couldn't trust Una anymore, for some reason. I couldn't make myself really care about her like this. I had become numb to all of my relationships, it's a miracle I still felt anything for Brister after everything happened. And now it was coming back, here of all places. There was a brief pause before I realized she was talking to me and quickly interjected.

"Oh, it's okay. I know a family back home where there are six of them. They don't seem quite as close-knit as yours, though."

"A larger family? What are they like?" her interest made me want to keep talking. What harm could there be in talking about the Croft family, right?

"Armoni's the oldest. He's an addict, though. I… Yeah, I know a lot of them. He's pretty alright, though. He's kissed pretty much everyone in school by this point."

"Sounds like fun," she said, her voice alight with teasing.

"Not really my cup of tea," I said, laughing a bit. "The next one is Baltimore. Oh yeah, they did a naming pattern, alphabetical order."

Sequoia made a face. "That sucks."

"They don't seem to mind. Anyways, Baltimore's pretty alright, I guess. I haven't talked to him much, but I think he's pretty sensitive. With Moni out most of the time, More's gotta take care of the others. Coryn and Devlyn are twins, they're both eleven. Dev's kind of awkward, but Coryn's… Well, she's like Brister. They're best friends, actually, that's how I know the family. Then, Evonna. She's really artsy, but kind of shy around people that aren't her siblings. The youngest is Firminian."

"What the fuck kind of name is that?" Sequoia says. "No offense to all of the Firminians out there."

"I don't know," I laugh. "They call him Mini, though, because he's the youngest."

"Oh. That's cute."

"It won't be cute when he's thirteen, but for now, yes, it's cute."

Sequoia laughs. "True!"

We fizzle off into silence again.

"I think I might try to sleep, if that's alright," Sequoia says. "You can wake up Elias if you want."

"I'll stay up a bit longer."

"Alright." She yawns and rubs at her eyes. "Thanks Trekker. Talking to someone else for a while is what I really needed to get my mind off of things, even for just a little while."

After she said it, I realized that I was smiling. For years a smile was my default expression, and now it was back on my face again. Maybe I'm… Healing? Here? Now, of all times? I have no idea how this is possible, and it's frustrating. Now's the time I need to be cold, and yet I feel so warm… I sigh heavily.

Why the hell do I have such rotten luck?

.

* * *

 _The third day_

* * *

-Trekker's POV-

I wake up the next morning after a bit of… Rest. Somehow my body had finally given out and let me sleep for a while.

"Morning," Elias says, sitting awake with Sequoia. I reach up and rub my eyes.

"Hey," I say groggily.

"Took you long enough, sleepyhead," Sequoia says, sounding teasing.

"Sorry," I say, "We can get going-"

"Trekker. I was kidding. You're okay."

"Oh. Right." I'm so used to apologizing I guess it just comes naturally nowadays.

"So, we've reached a dead end. What do you suggest next?" Sequoia asks.

Elias closes his eyes.

"Well, if we exit the tunnel, we could either climb back up the pit or search for another door. This temple is definitely bigger than it looks on the outside…" He sighs. "If only I had a stick to draw in the dirt with or a pen and paper or… Something, I could try to draw a map so you could see what I'm seeing…" he keeps going, considering possible paths.

I've definitely got both brains and brawn behind me. We'll just have to see how long that lasts. In the end, all three of us want to get home. Even if it means breaking bonds and destroying trust. I have to keep that in the back of my mind. Even if I don't believe it.

"Maybe there's a hidden passageway somewhere in the other room."

"Maybe we can get a weapon from one of those display cases," Sequoia says.

"I tried. They seem pretty solid."

"Gimme that knife," she says.

"Don't do anything too dangerous," I warn. The last thing I need is for her to injure herself trying to get that weapon out of the case. She gets to work pounding away while Elias hands me some jerky to have for breakfast, still murmuring to himself.

"Thanks," I say quietly. "Any idea where the screams might have been coming from?"

He glances up at me, his brown eyes drooping when he remembers the horrible noises that came from somewhere within the temple.

"I can't tell," he says finally. "Maybe somewhere below us, or something? I don't know, they didn't sound dangerously close, but I have a feeling whatever might have caused it isn't too far from us."

"You mean whoever."

Elias closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "No." Poor kid's in denial. Sometimes he speaks so eloquently and intelligently that I forget he's only fifteen. "That couldn't have been human."

"You underestimate the Games' potential to turn us into beasts."

He falls silent, going back to forming his Arena map. I think he's trying to place the room based on the external view he got. I can barely remember what the outside of the temple looks like, let alone have enough spatial intelligence to see the shape of the room in the light of a single torch and try to place it inside like a puzzle. This seems to be fairly simple for Elias, though, who traces the rock with a knife as if he could draw intricate blueprints with it. It'd be pointless to draw in the dark with so little light anyways.

There's a big thump, bigger than the other ones, as Sequoia runs straight into the display case. It doesn't even budge.

"Ready to give up?" I ask, trying not to seem too amused.

Sequoia sighs. "It's not in my nature to give up. I did chip it, a little bit, I think. Maybe. We'll find water, come back here and I'll get it then."

"Sure you will," Elias muses sarcastically, and Sequoia just grins and shrugs.

"So, any idea where the water might be?"

"Yeah, but it might take some exploring to know for sure."

Sequoia stands up, putting the backpack over her shoulders. "Well, let's get started then! Time's a-wasting!" Together, the three of us leave the artifacts room, crouching to get through the little arch that leads into the pottery room. This room is lighter than the artifacts room, considering it has a small window that lets some of the sunlight in. I can practically see the dust in the air, covering the pots and the wheels on which they would have been made, who knows how long ago?

"Wait a minute… Look there…" Elias crouches down in front of a square-shaped imprint on the wall, that has a couple of shallow holes in it. "This looks like it could open up to be another tunnel. I wonder if there are… Keys for it?"

"Maybe they're in here," Sequoia says. "Maybe it leads to water. Hear that distant rushing sound?"

"I hear it!" I say, feeling… Hopeful. "Let's split up and find the keys. Think Yin minds if we break some of his pottery?"

Sequoia picks up one of the bigger pots, grinning. "Let's hope he doesn't." She throws it on the ground, shattering the clay into pieces. Her laughter turns to howling when we realize that the pot didn't contain a key.

A bright yellow and black-striped snake has attached itself to Sequoia's leg. She spazzes, seemingly paralyzed, as I jump into action, killing the snake with my knife and prying it off of her while Sequoia screams.

"That's a double-banded krait, Trekker," he says, sounding devastated. "It's a Capitol engineered-"

"We can suck the venom out, can't we-"

"No. Don't." Elias says, sternly.

"What do we do? Elias!" I take him by the shoulders and shake him, to which he shoves me back lightly.

"Give me some space, dammit! This is an extremely dangerous snake, we-"

"DO SOMETHING!" I shout, falling to my knees beside her and reaching to grab her hand. Her muscles are tense and locked, and she gasps for air. "ELIAS!"

He fumbles through his backpack, and tears sting my eyes. "Sequoia it's okay, keep breathing okay, don't worry-" she gasps desperately for air, unable to control her own body. If she doesn't get help soon…

"There isn't any kind of medicine in either of these bags!" he says, starting to sound panicked. He's usually pretty relaxed and doesn't show a lot of emotions, but now he's starting to lose some of his nonchalance.

"There has to be something we can do!" I say through sobs, tears blurring my vision. Sequoia continues to gasp. My body acts before I really know what it's doing, using one of the skills I'd tried to learn in training. I wish I had taken it more seriously, but the thought of putting my lips on that dummy…

I press my mouth against hers, breathing into it, any hope to get some air into her, any hope to keep her going. Elias snaps back into reality and coaches me through it, trying to keep his voice steady and calm so that none of us will panic.

I don't know how long we spend like that, with me swallowing tears to breathe into her mouth, and Elias methodically telling me when to breathe and when to pump on her chest, in the hopes that we could get her breathing on her own again. My heart pounds but I have to keep my breathing at least half steady for her sake.

It feels like hours pass before she stills.

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. "No."

A cannon booms.

"NO!" Tears I had desperately been trying to stop pour out of my eyes. "SEQUOIA!" I shake her shoulders, desperately hoping that she'd sit up and open her eyes, say something, respond somehow… Nothing. I set her body back down and inch away from it… Her… Corpse. My body shakes with sobs. I'm taken back to that day. I tuck my knees to my chest and bury my face in them, entire body quivering with sobs.

 _Get it together Trekker…_

My hips itch. The scars hadn't been so bad, but now they were itching so bad it hurt, searing into my skin. I couldn't feel anything around me, all I felt was the cold darkness, enveloping itself around me, suffocating me, squeezing me. She had such a good chance, she had so much waiting for her, she-

"Trekker?" I gasp and try to quiet my sobs, gasping and hyperventilating into my knees, trying to get air.

"I'm so-rry!" I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut in a hopeless attempt to stop more tears from forming, trying to forget that she's dead, she's dead and we're to blame, she-

"Here," he holds out one of the two supply canteens we got from the Cornucopia. She got from the Cornucopia. I played no role in getting us supplies, and here I was, using them all up.

 _Dammit Trekker, dammit!_

I can't believe I'm here again. I can't believe the intrusive thoughts are back. I thought I had gotten rid of them, and here they were. I wanted to throw my pants down and scratch my hips until they were red and raw and bleeding, I wanted to destroy myself just like I was so used to doing before. I thought I was done feeling like this. I guess old wounds never heal. What's broken will never be fixed.

"Trekker, drink." Elias's voice is stern and brings me more solidly back to reality.

My hands physically shake as I reach out to take the canteen he offers me. I take a gulp of water, which thins out some of the thick mucus that had formed in my mouth, and focus on taking deep breaths. "Thanks," I finally manage to get out, my voice weak and quivering like a child's.

Maybe I knew better than to hurt myself, but Brister couldn't stop me forever. They sound just like all my other thoughts, after all. I wasn't really thinking, I figured it was really necessary. I was wrong.

"Let's get out of here," he says quietly.

"S…Sequoia…"

"Come on." At least he was able to keep his cool. He kept driving forward, and I had no choice but to keep up with him for right now. He got up and I made it to my feet, still feeling light-headed from crying. I didn't feel totally present, I felt numb, I felt like I'd just like to walk straight into Tempest's sword at this point, but Elias was going and I was following.

He goes out the doorway, into the darkness below the pit, and I give a last look over my shoulder. It's one of those horrible things that you never want to see again, while not being able to look away. I'm a fucking masochist I guess, but I can't just go without acknowledging…

"I'm so sorry," I say, voice breaking all over again as Elias grabs me by the arm.

"Let's keep moving," he says. His voice is hollow and dark, but he's going right back to business. If only I could be more like him.

When he enters the darkness, I follow, allowing it to embrace me like an old friend.

~.~.

-Torque's POV-

 _Of all ways for her to spend her last night, she spent it watching the stars with him._

 _Ree knew her room was going to be empty that night, empty for a long time after. She was too scared to be there alone so I stayed the night with her. Usually sleepovers with big siblings are exciting, but not that night._

 _I will never forget the look in her eyes when she realized that Sylvia wasn't going to come back from seeing the stars with Zack. I'll never forget the tears in her eyes, or how she cried that night. Of course her heart bled for Sylvia. They had been roommates for a couple months by that point. But it was more than that. It was… It was the fear that she would be the same someday._

 _I will never forget the moment my eight-year-old sister asked me to promise her that we'd spend her last night on earth watching the stars together. Her, and me, and Kyria, and Fiona._

" _I want to spend our last night together watching the stars, before I become one." I had no idea how to respond to that. It's amazing how constantly fighting for her life has forced Ree to think some pretty profound thoughts._

" _You won't become one. Not for a very, very long time."_

" _Promise me anyways."_

" _Of course."_

" _Are you crying?"_

" _What? No."_

" _Torque, you can-"_

" _Please, fam, this is very hard-"_

 _She wrapped her arms around me and buried her teary face in my shoulder. "I know."_

This is my chance to save her.

"Watcha thinkin 'bout, _fam_?"

The voice of my ally makes me look up. "Only I say fam."

Static laughs, a refreshing noise in the darkness. So far, whoever's here with us has kept their distance, and we haven't heard anything of them. We've just kept on going. We have absolutely no idea what time it is. It could be midnight out there and we'd have no idea. I'm just glad to have someone with me, so I'm not left in the dark by myself.

"So, when are you going to tell me about this plan of yours?" I ask, trying to stay away from friendship-y things and keep on task.

"I dunno!" she trilled. "Probably when we get there."

"There? Where? Fam, are you trying to be confusing?"

"Maybe I'm trying to make you crack," she said playfully.

"You wouldn't be the first, you won't be the last."

"In all seriousness, though, there's a very important part of the plan that we still need. It's no use telling you until we get there. I don't want you stealing my idea, after all," she said, her voice immediately back to teasing.

Static could stay on business, but she didn't like to be too business-y for too long. I suppose that'd make her a pretty good friend, but it's not exactly good news for an ally. I trust her, though, and it's too late to unattach now, so we're together for a while, I guess.

"Still with me, fam?" she asks.

"Mhm. Only I say fam though."

She laughs. "Would you rather I call you Carl?"

"Nah, fam. I'm good."

She quickly adds, "Wait, is Carl your dead name? I'm really sorry if-"

"Relax, fam. It's not a dead name. It doesn't evoke any dysphoria or any negative feelings at all. It just sounds like an old person name."

"Oh, good." When she speaks again, I hear the little shit grin in her voice. "Then I'll call you Carl when you're an old person."

I puff out air in a kind of laugh. Soon, though, we both realize that there's no way she'd be around if I live to become an old person. We walk in a tense, sad silence after that. It gets heavier and heavier with each step, as thoughts of Static being killed in front of me, even by me, play in front of my eyes. It makes me uneasy and upset, and each step makes it harder to breathe, each step has me closer to throwing up from the pure misery of it all. I have to change the subject.

"You're so outgoing," I comment. A stupid way to change the subject, but effective at least.

"Yeah, I guess. I haven't always been this way, though." I can hear the smile in her voice and hope she'll brighten up again so we don't have to act like we're attending each others' funerals. "Really, it's all thanks to Current. You know, _fam_ , I used to be pretty shy and quiet, if you'd believe it."

"Now you're just mocking me," I tease. "Also, I don't know if I would believe that."

She laughs, and I find a small smile pulling at the corner of my lips for just a second before setting them in a firm line once again.

"It's true. I was just… I dunno, shy. I didn't speak up very much. Current kind of pushed me to jump out of my comfort zone, and I learned a lot about myself and in the process gained some more confidence, I guess."

"Hm."

"Yeah, if you ever talked to shy Static, you probably wouldn't even recognize her."

"It's hard to imagine you quiet," I tease, poking her shoulder.

"I know right?" she said, sounding proud. "I didn't like being quiet. It was a lonely life of being walked on. Now I get a lot more respect pretty much everywhere I go. It's easy to target the quiet little redhead with the big glasses. It's harder to go after the fiery redhead that knows who she is and what she wants _and_ will shove your fucking tarot cards right up your ass."

"Tarot cards? I ask, raising an eyebrow. "That's a very… Specific occurrence, fam."

"Yeah, it's a long story. I'm not giving the bastard the pleasure of hearing me say his stupid name on television."

"Fair enough." We walk some more, looking around, until we see an opening in the wall.

"Look! Up ahead!"

"I see it," I say. "Let's go." We link arms and run towards the opening. When we approach, we find that the opening is an arch in the stone just big enough to crawl through, and the sound of running water on the other side is definitely a good sign.

"I'll go first," Static says, but I put out a hand to stop her.

"Let me."

"Torque-"

"I'll be fine. You'll go in right after me." I don't let her protest, crawling through the opening.

I'm greeted by the light of sunshine and the sound of rushing water, that lands in a crystal clear pond. The rock surrounding the area is iridescent, shining in hues of pink and blue and silver… My breath is taken away as Static crawls through the opening. Seeing her face again, and her bright red hair, actually makes me smile with relief. Unfortunately, I don't hide it fast enough, and her face lights up with a huge beam.

"You smiled!" she said, sounding pleased.

My ears burn as a hand covers my mouth. "Yeah, I do that sometimes."

"Aw, don't cover it! It's so cute! You even have little dimples, don't you!?"

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Shut up," I mumble, embarrassed at the attention.

Static stops talking but her brown eyes are still alight with happiness. I take my glasses off and put them beside me before I splash some of the cold, clear water on my face and take a deep breath. After being in the stuffy, moggy, dark room for so long, this feels like heaven. Static soon does the same, taking her bangs out of their braid and bobby pins before re-braiding and re-pinning them. She cups her hands and smells the water, taking a hesitant sip. I do the same. It tastes fine to me, and soon I can't resist the temptation to gulp down water.

For every sip we take out of our hands, more water rushes in thanks to the steady waterfall coming into the room through the hole in the ceiling. My stomach growls, but the water helps settle it, if only slightly.

"Alright, now I'll tell you my strategy."

I look up, wondering what I finally did to earn her trust. Was it the smile? What could we have possibly found…?

"We found water. That's what we needed."

"Water? What about it."

Static grins and pushes the large tortoiseshell glasses up her nose.

"A dam, fam. Let's build a dam."

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Yay, another chapter done! Hope you liked it! R.I.P. Sequoia, you were truly a joy to write with. Thanks a bunch for her, Jess! Hope you were satisfied with the bits and pieces we got to see of her before she died. I was back and forth on this one, but figured that since you were the only one left that had two still alive, it made the most sense. Still though, it was so hard to kill her T.T it's going to be so hard to kill most of these characters.**_

 _ **So, here's a long chapter! I appreciate any feedback you might have, so if you think about it, leave a review! Also, sponsoring is open, if you'd like to send someone something. I'll make a list of what everyone has/needs if you want. Or you can just ask about specific tributes and I'll fill you in.**_

 _ **So glad to have this story moving along! :D Thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing still!**_

 _ **Chapter Question; Were you surprised that Sequoia died? Predictions on who might be the next to go?**_

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	20. Tunnels and the Beast

_**A/N: Trigger warning for gore on the Fourth Day.**_

 _The Third Day_

-Tempest, D4F-

Even with a blanket a boy I could use as a pillow, sleeping in the tunnel was absolutely horrible. Not only was there the fear of being cornered in the case of a fight, but trying to find a comfortable position in the tiny, cramped stone space was next to impossible. I was glad to take watch for a while, staying up with Branden and making small-talk. He had seemed pretty adamant about staying up with me, which was fine by me. It's always good to have people like you in this shindig. Eventually, though, we just couldn't stay up anymore, and woke up Bellona and Alma.

Ezie was awake the entire time we were up on watch. I can't be sure why, but figure it's just because the cave wall is so cold and hard. I think he actually did sleep in the night, even if I didn't. And if he didn't, he was good at pretending. Sometimes he'd seem like he was getting close, then stir, waking himself up. It was almost as if it were on purpose. Maybe it was.

I really tried to sleep, and I think that there were times I might have drifted for a bit. Maybe not. It was so fuzzy it was hard to tell. I had my head on Ezie's stomach, which wasn't as uncomfortably rock hard as I expected it to be. He warned that he wasn't exactly a deep sleeper, but I didn't mind. His stirring wasn't bothersome to me. It wasn't like I could have slept anyways.

I feel a brief shake to my shoulders and know that it's time to get back at it. My back aches, my knees and palms are killing me from crawling, and worst of all, I have to do everything in my power to hold in gas as we crawl. Not that it wouldn't be funny to fart in Branden's face. I mean, I grew up with a bunch of rowdy guys, I've farted in plenty of faces (mostly Rafferty's), and been farted on. It's just a part of the life. But it wouldn't be very smart to make things awkward in the Games. Branden doesn't exactly seem like the kind of person that would take well to being farted on.

From what I've gathered about him, he hasn't exactly had a crazy fun childhood like I did. My friends and I spent our whole lives getting into trouble, and that doesn't seem to be his jam. Which definitely isn't as fun, but to each their own.

Anyways, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, I'm shaken awake.

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the colors of the sunrise that radiated off of Ezie's shoulder as Whimsy shines her flashlight back on the rest of us. I rub my eyes and yawn.

Well, I feel disgusting. I haven't showered in days and days, I haven't even gotten wet, not to mention I haven't brushed my teeth since getting here either. I stretch as best as I could, which isn't very well at all. My head spins and aches when I get up into a sitting position, trying to stretch. Eating some breakfast helps, but not much.

"Y'okay Punk?" Ezie asks quietly as we sit against the wall, preparing to continue the journey through the tunnel.

"Yeah," I sigh quietly. "I'm going to make it."

"Yeah, I know how that feels." He reaches up to rub his eyes.

Branden cracks his knuckles just then. "I think we're going to make it out of here today."

"If this is a dead end, I will be very pissed," Bellona says.

"I think we all will be," I add.

"I'm confident it'll lead us somewhere!" Whimsy says, but her voice shakes slightly as she tries to hide her doubt.

"Yeah, I'm sure it will!" Alma adds quickly, which seems to boost her confidence, even if only slightly. The District 1 tributes are definitely close. There's no doubt about that. As much as they try to play vicious, they're really not that scary. However, they aren't afraid to kill, so they're quite valuable. I just don't think of them as the betraying type. Even so, I could see the alliance splitting into two factions: myself and the two boys I've grown close to, the 1 tributes, and Bellona picking whichever side she thinks will take her closer to Victory. That girl from 2 is one to watch out for. She's not going to stop until she's a Victor, not for anyone or anything. Of all of us, she's definitely the most detached, and for sure the most brutal.

Hopefully we don't split too early, though. Right now, we could take down any tribute or group of tributes in this place. It's nice being the top dogs, that's for sure. I'll keep it that way for as long as I possibly can. The longer we stay together, the more of a read I can get on each of them. I already know, or can guess, certain things about them based on their auras, but the more I know about their techniques and fighting styles, the more I'll know for sure how to defeat them. Which is ultimately what I came here to do. It's what all of us came here to do. As much as all of us act friendly, I know that in the end, we're all just playing games with each other, and only one will come out. If they want to play, I'll play with them. I've always loved playing around with people, and they'll be no exception. But nobody will stand between myself and Victory, nobody will stop the golden child from taking the trophy and standing on top of the podium.

"Everyone ready?"

I can't stop myself from yawning as everyone gives their approval. Whimsy turns the flashlight around, leaving us in darkness again as the train starts to slowly move forward again. I try to focus on anything but how tired and light-headed I am, how much my back hurts and how much my knees and palms are complaining. Instead, I try to focus on not inadvertently ramming my face into Ezie's ass and putting one hand and one knee in front of the other. Sometimes Alma will pipe up with words of encouragement, sometimes Whimsy will ask if we want to sing a crawling song, to which Bellona quickly shuts her down. After what feels like forever, though, we hear a surprised squeak come from Whimsy, and a series of grunts as each of us slams into the ass of the person in front of us.

"Woah, Punk, I know I'm irresistible but I thought you'd have some self-control!" Ezie jokes, and I feel my entire face heat up. Luckily, nobody can see the blush in the darkness, and instead I decid to keep teasing.

"Branden's really the lucky one here," I say. "Now he'll spend the rest of the Games thinking about my ass."

"You wish," he fires back with a small laugh. "Your ass is a good one, but I've touched and tasted better."

"Hey! Earth to the developing porno!" Whimsy calls, causing all of us to laugh loudly. "We've reached an opening!" Soon, the Career train starts moving again, as each of us eventually exits the tunnel. Unfortunately, the room that we end up in is just as dark as the tunnel we started in.

Standing on my two feet, though, is the best feeling. I'm finally able to crack my back and shake out my hands. I do every stretch known to man to help my legs, and am finally able to let out all my farts slyly, like a ninja. Nobody will ever know it was me.

"It's so dark… I wonder where we are," Alma observes.

"Good one, Captain Obvious," Branden sighs. "I'll get a lantern." He fumbles through his bag as I do some lunges. When he turns it on, we ca, see a bit, but not too much, more clearly. The room is dark and musky, and covered in vines that hang down from the ceiling. The walls are covered with ivy that crawls upwards. The room is humid and hot as all sin, not to mention absolutely massive, and we have no idea where in it we are. At least we can stand up straight, though. At this point, that's sweet relief enough.

"It's so humid in here, that's bound to be a good sign," Bellona says.

"Good sign? My lungs are burning!" Whimsy's voice had in it the typical District 1 female whine.

"It means there could very well be water near," I murmur, speaking the thoughts of all my strategic allies at once.

"Which also means it's possible we'll find other tributes very soon," Branden says. It's easy to tell that he's grinning, even in the darkness.

"Let's do some wandering then and see what we can find!" Whimsy says enthusiastically.

"I'll take the lead again," I say, stepping forward and twirling my knives around my fingers by the handles (great party trick, by the way. Almost as good as the knife game, which Rafferty does scarily fast). "Also, as pack leader, I say a very firm no more tunnels."

"That's no fun, Punk," Ezie says, punching my shoulder lightly.

"Tell that to my sad achey back and bruised knees." I rolled my shoulders, just because I could and it felt good.

"I second," Bellona says. "The Gamemakers aren't going to like Careers that do nothing but crawl around like ants."

"We can't be ants, we have to be tigers," I say decidedly, to which everyone, even Whimsy and Ezie, agree. "Then let's go, tigers." All of us take our weapons and start wandering the murky forest of a room.

Soon, though, we find just how easy it is to get lost in the dark, musty infinity. It's getting thicker and boggier as we go, but soon we've lost sight of any walls and are left surrounded by the darkness and foliage. I realize that we have no more sense of direction when the sound of a cannon makes us stop in our tracks. That just reminds all of us what we're really here to do. Not dick around, unfortunately, as much as I would like to insinuate pornos with my District partner and cuddle with Ezie. We're here to play the Game, and only one of us will win.

We keep walking, myself and Branden, with the lantern, in front.

"Have you thought about ditching these guys at all?" he asks in a quiet voice, as a couple of other conversations happen behind us.

"What? Oh, um… Not yet, no. We still have some kills to make before that comes up."

"Oh. I see." That wasn't the answer he wanted, but I'm not budging. I can tell he's kind of tense, though, so I try to soften the blow.

"District 4 will have a Victor this year, though. We'll stay true to each other."

"Good to hear." He seems to relax at that, which is a good thing. I mean it, though. If I don't win, at least him going home would mean good things for the District. Not that District Four isn't well-off, it really is, but having a Victor means another year of being the Capitol's favorite, which can only be good for the economy and business. Maybe Rafferty's family could raise enough money to get a better place to live, and some real reaping clothes. Plus, I'd consider myself a patriot. I'm proud of my home and want it to thrive, ultimately. Even if Ezie would probably be a more capable and all-around better Victor. I don't know. At this point, it seems that choosing one of the two will be dangerous, but if I can keep both of them close, it will only be better for me. Making enemies isn't something you want to do in the Games.

We find nothing for the rest of the day, even after another two meals. It seems that we're only more lost than we were when we began. Hearing the anthem play is a bit of a relief, because it means I can get some much-needed rest. After Sequoia's face surprises us all, we set up shop for the night.

Laying in a sleeping bag with Ezie on watch is the most comfortable I've felt in days, and my body thankfully falls into a deep, dark sleep as soon as I close my eyes.

~.~.

 _The fourth day_

-Wyatt, D6M-

Maybe having a lit torch puts me in more danger, but I can't help it anymore. I have to be able to see.

I've been left completely to my own devices, and it's not been healthy. The first couple of days it wasn't so bad. I just got up and stretched my legs, looked around for anything I could possibly use as a weapon, and tried to continue the exercise Cash started me on, asserting myself and my importance. Soon, though, my mind wandered to much more dangerous places.

I had never seen Sid cry before I was reaped. Even when his heart was broken, or he had gotten hurt doing some stunt, or he had been beaten up by bullies, he was still smiling when that happened. He joked about it, he reassured me that he was okay. Even if I knew it wasn't. He knew I knew, but that was okay. He had too much pride to admit that he wasn't fine out loud. It was enough that I knew and was there through it all.

When he came to visit me, though, he was sobbing. He fell into my arms and stayed there the entire time. Out came everything he had never said to me, everything about how he treasured our friendship and how he didn't want to see me go, how he couldn't stand the thought of not having me there. It was the most genuine I'd ever seen him. It was so incredibly painful to live through. I never thought I would see him crack, and he had totally broken right in front of my eyes. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't promise I would come back, because we both knew that I didn't have it in me to do this.

I owe it to him to try. I owe it to Elise and my mother, too. I have to try. I have to do everything I can to stay alive, no matter how bad it is.

I had found some water dripping through a crack in the ceiling to start parching my thirst, and had taken to eating leaves and bugs that were crawling around out of pure desperation. Not every tribute was lucky enough to get meat, but at least I had something edible that wouldn't kill me.

My stomach is still hollow, and I still feel dry, but I'm alive.

The part that really destroys my hopes for sanity is the room. The masks, staring at me with dark eyes, that drill into my soul. I'm always being watched. They'll never stop watching me. I may be hidden here, but constantly seeing the hollow stares of the masks has driven me insane with paranoia. Every noise was making my heart pound, there just came a point that I couldn't take it.

I thought lighting a torch would help, but it hasn't. In fact, it's made everything worse. The masks, with their hollow eyes and gaping mouths, don't move, but they stare. Silently, quietly, always watching. I can't look anywhere without seeing them. Every second I fear that they're going to come closer, grab me with hands of the shadows, pulls me away, send spears through my neck. Staying in this room much longer is going to mean bad things for me. However, lighting a torch has revealed something important.

I know I can't climb back up the pit. Not in this state. I feel like I can barely walk around for too long without feeling sick, let alone climb back up all that distance. The other room has tributes in it, Trekker from Eight and Elias from Eleven. I'm no match from them, especially after they got stuff from the Cornucopia. Also, after hearing Sequoia's horrible screams yesterday, the last thing I want to do is try to check that out.

From there I had two choices. I could either go to the next room, which contained more pots than I knew what to do with but was also an inevitable dead end, or hide in the room of masks. But now, a third option had opened up. A small tunnel, which I had found in the mask room.

It might be a risk, but I have a good feeling about it. I really don't have much of another choice. The last thing I want is to lose my sanity, after all. I put my torch through the tunnel first, then start down the tunnel.

The tunnel slopes downwards, and I follow it until I reach a room and drop in, my feet hitting the ground.

It's a small room that was pitch black, now with my torch illuminating it I see a figure, hunched over on the far side of the room. My heart falls to my stomach. As soon as I take one quick inhale, I have to hunch over to retch. The smell is absolutely disgusting. If I had any real substance in my stomach, I would have thrown it up.

I raise my torch just as the figure that was curled against the wall unravels. Beo's brown eyes are wide and his smile is all too innocent. His face is completely covered in dark red, slick blood.

"Hello there," he says, talking in a Capitol-like accent. His voice is soft, quiet, quivering as he raises his knife.

I step back, quickly looking for the tunnel to escape. Beo's hands are covered in blood just like his face, and his clothes are splattered with it. My heart pounds as I search desperately for an escape, back up the tunnel, anything to escape this nightmare.

"The beast is running wild, eating people," Beo murmurs, hands shaking. He's still watching me, his eyes intent, smiling ever so slightly. I feel the tunnel and turn to crawl back up, but he grabs me by the back of the shirt and tugs: hard. I go clamoring backwards, hitting the floor hard and dropping the torch.

"Where do you think you're going? You're not one of my hunters." I scramble to grab the torch, but soon Beo is on top of me. He gives a glance to the fire, which doesn't look like it's going to catch anything for real (dammit).

I know what I have to do. I have to speak up. I have to try and talk him out of this. Me, Wyatt Calistro. The kid that people assume is mute for a while because he never says anything. I'm going to have to talk to the wordsmith.

"Beo," I say, trying to keep my voice from quivering, to no avail. "Think about this."

"The beast requires a sacrifice," he said, his voice raising in volume. "Or else he'll attack me."

"There is no beast," I say. I feel sharp pain as Beo's knife digs into my shoulder, and let out a scream. Nothing could possibly prepare anyone for that level of pain. No amount of bullying in school, no amount of anything could prepare you for the pain. For a few seconds, I couldn't do anything. My heart pounded out of my chest, and my body was paralyzed, in sheer agony. I tried not to scream, but soon couldn't control it.

"I need to fix up my mask," he says. His voice is full of innocence. It's as if he has no idea what he's doing. It's as if he thinks this is okay. I know his morals were fucked up, but I didn't think they were this fucked up. Surely they couldn't be.

"Please Beo!" I said. He dug his fingers into my wound, causing another scream to tear out of my throat and tears to roll down my cheeks. I couldn't stop them. "Please!" I have to watch him, under the light of the dropped torch, smear my blood on his face, smiling as he does so.

"Who's Beo?" he asked, smiling down at me. "I'm Jack Merridew. I can sign a high C sharp."

"No, you're not! You're-" I couldn't keep talking as Beo's knife traced down my other arm. It was too much. The pain was blinding. I was weak. Everything hurt and all I could feel was the pounding of my heart, blood spilling out of the wounds like a waterfall, while Beo watched with some kind of strange pleasure. He caked more of my blood on his face, successfully brushing bangs off his forehead and getting the substance in them, too.

"I was starting to worry I would have to leave to hunt," Beo said, looking absolutely horrifying with his hair sticking up, the blood acting as some sort of gel. "Now the beast will be happy."

"You're not Jack!" I gasp out, heart pounding. This was it. This was my last chance. In that moment, I could see his expression change.

"...the mask was a thing on its own," he whispered slowly, "behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-consciousness."

"You're not Jack," I gasped out between sobs, begging, pleading. "You're not Jack you're not Jack… You're Beowulf Mortimer and you're from District Nine!" I let out more sobs of agony as Beo dug his knife into my throat. "You're Beowulf Mortimer and… And…" Another scream tore out of my throat as his knife went deeper, and breathing became harder. I mustered up the courage to keep going, to beg and plea, to try everything I can to survive for Sid, for my family, for Isa, for my District. I feel my heart pounding, roaring in my ears as I manage to get out…

"I am Wyatt Calistro."

The knife presses into my neck and I close my eyes, choking and coughing and spluttering as he speaks again, words that enter into my ears and swim around my head.

"Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Spill her blood."

The world disappears into bright light as I exhale for the last time.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Phew. Oh wow, it's almost 1 A.M. That's nice. Oh boy. I'm going to be so tired tomorrow. XD**_

 _ **Anyways, hope you liked this chapter! It was really an intense one! Things are starting to get real now, which is totally exciting. I don't have much else to say except… I'm so so sorry.**_

 _ **(No I'm not. Ehehehehe!)**_

 _ **Rest well, Wyatt, old buddy. I'll miss writing with you.**_

 _ **Also, dunno if this needs to be mentioned, but some of Beo's quotes are directly from the novel Lord of the Flies and I do not own them. XD So if something he says sounds particularly thought-provoking and cool, it is probably a Golding quote.**_

 _ **Anyways, let me know what you thought of this chapter! Probably when it's not 1 A.M., though, haha.**_

 _ **CQ: Were you surprised that Wyatt died this early? Who do you predict will be the next to go?**_

 _ **Have a good Easter y'all. Oh man you guys might read this on Easter, oh no XD I'm posting this on Easter, what kind of person am I? Aghh XD Oh well. I'm off to bed now. But thanks for all the reviews and support so far!**_


	21. The Creature in the Cave and Pressure

_**A/N: Trigger warning for blood and self-harm in Beo's POV.**_

* * *

 _The fifth day_

-Beo's POV-

 _ **Who is Beo? Who is Jack? I am Jack. I am Beo. I am Beo? I am Jack. Who is Jack? Who is Beo? Who is Beo is Jack? Is Beo Jack? Is Jack Beo?**_

It is dark.

 _ **WhO iS bEo iS jAcK wHo?**_

The letters are carved into stone with the tip of the knife. It takes a few passes to make a real good cut in it. Since the sacrifice brought fire, the words have been carved into the stone with the tip of the knife. Even with the fire it is dark.

 _The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away._

Order must be had. The patterns of the carvings weren't understandable to many, but the creature in the cave was satisfied with them. Who is the creature in the cave? Is the creature Beo? Or Jack? Sitting in the darkness alone has made him unsure.

 _ **WHO is JACK is BEO?**_

The mask was sticky and hot, and dried into a film that was itchy and uncomfortable. But it was a life force for the creature in the cave.

 _The mask was a thing on its own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-consciousness._

Carving the letters was a good way to keep the creature entertained.

The beast had taken the sacrifice away. It had come when the creature in the cave was sleeping, and taken the sacrifice away. The sacrifice was gone. The creature in the cave was safe. In more days, the beast would come back, expecting another sacrifice. The creature had to make sure he had another sacrifice, or else the beast would be angry.

 _ **wHo Is BeO? ¿**_

 _Beo was never exactly what anyone would call "normal."_

 _When Beo was five, he read a book. He didn't like school, but he liked to read. He liked to see the pictures in the books. They were funny. Especially that one of the guy who fell down. Beo loved that one. It was funny._

 _When Beo was five, he read a book. It was called_ _Curly Mouse_ _. It was a big boy book, but Beo read it. He didn't need his parents' help. They thought he might be very smart so they made him take a lot of tests. It was embarrassing when he failed most of them. Beo's parents were very mad that he failed the tests. They were mad that he wasn't a genius like they thought he'd be. They were mad at him lots for lots of reasons, they were pretty touchy. They were embarrassed, and they were mad._

 _When Beo was five, he read a book. It was about a mouse that enjoyed reading, like him. When Beo was five, he was Beo, but he was also Curly Mouse. His parents hated that and told him that he was a boy, not a mouse. He just liked to pretend. But pretending was embarrassing. They got mad at him for pretending. Pretending made him happy, but it made them mad. Everything that made him happy made them mad._

 _When Beo was ten, he wrote a book report. He was very focused on his book report. It was about a book called_ _Ben Benson and the Circus Mystery_ _. Beo liked the circus._

Simon liked the circus.

 _When Beo was ten, he wrote a book report. He took a lot of time to write his book report. He wanted to make sure it was the best it could be. Other students went to recess after turning them in, but Beo stayed in. His teacher told him he could go outside, but Beo wasn't finished. He wanted to sit inside and write his book report. Nik was a year older than Beo and his class had recess at a different time so it was pointless anyways. He didn't want to go outside. So he didn't. He stayed in and finished his book report._

 _When Beo was ten, he wrote a book report. He was a detective like Ben. When Beo was ten, he was Beo, but he was also Detective Ben Benson. When he was finished with his book report, he went searching for clues that would help him solve a mystery. The rest of his class played kickball, but Beo didn't want to play kickball. He wanted to be a sleuth._

 _When Beo was twelve, he gave Nik a book. Nik was very sad because his cousin had died in the Games. Beo didn't like it when Nik was sad. But Beo didn't understand why he was so sad._

 _When Beo was twelve, he gave Nik a book. His parents didn't know he took it. They didn't like to give books away because they said that people don't return books, they steal them. But Nik wasn't a thief, and he was very sad. When Beo was very sad, he read._

 _When Beo was twelve, he gave Nik a book. It was called_ _Gulliver's Travels._ _Beo loved the book. He thought that maybe Nik would like it too. Why be Nik and live in sad Panem with a dead cousin when he could be Lemuel Gulliver instead? Beo loved to be Gulliver but Nik needed to be Gulliver so Beo gave him the book._

 _When Beo was fifteen, his parents gave him a book. Beo liked to read, and that's all he really cared to do. Sometimes he liked to talk to his friend Nik, or mess with his little monster Grendel, but Beo just really liked to read. Nobody really seemed to respect that, though. Instead he had to comb his hair, and sit in the parlor while his parents' friends were there, and he had to be very polite. It was rude to read in the presence of others, even when they were quite boring._

 _When Beo was fifteen, his parents gave him a book. It was called_ _Catcher in the Rye_ _. He had found them in their bedroom after finishing_ _Treasure Island_ _. Beo wanted to tell them about it, but they didn't care. Nobody ever cared about the things Beo read. Sometimes they'd pretend, but they really didn't care._

 _When Beo was fifteen, his parents gave him a book. His father got up, muttering curses, and took Beo to the shelves of books. He searched until he found one and handed it to Beo. It was called_ _Catcher in the Rye._

 _When Beo was fifteen, his parents gave him a book. His father put it in his hands and said, "Take this. Holden Caulfield is fucking nuts, like you."_

 _Beo read the book. He read the book in one night. He got a real goddamn bang out of it. He really did. He figured that if he was like Holden Caulfield, that was okay. Good, even._

 _When Beo was fifteen, he wore his metaphorical red hunting hat with pride. When Beo was fifteen, he smoked a cigarette. He hated it when Nik did it but he wanted to do it so he did it. When Beo was fifteen, he was Beo, but he was also Holden. He liked to horse around sometimes, even around his parents' phony friends. That just killed him. It really did._

 _When Beo was seventeen, he found a book. It was buried under piles of other books. It was practically untouched, for years and years it had been left sitting. Beo was immediately intrigued._

 _When Beo was seventeen, he found a book. It was called_ _Lord of the Flies_ _. It was about a group of boys that were forced to survive. It was about a conch and a beast. It was about the masks. It was about human morality, and the inherent evil inside of everyone._

 _When Beo was seventeen, he found a book. It was dark. It had a stick sharpened on both ends. Simon was the martyr, killed before he could tell the other boys the truth. Face paint, masks, hid the boys. He loved the book. He read it again. He stayed up reading it. He told himself about it, because nobody else was around to listen or care anymore. He decided, why be Beo and live in sad Panem with nothing when he could be one of the boys on the island? Why be sad Beo when he could just stop caring? He stopped caring. He played with Chancellor and terrorized Grendel because it made him laugh. He didn't care what was right. He had no one to care for._

 _When Beo was eighteen, he was reaped._

 _ **wHo Is JaCk? ¿**_

Beo is Jack. Jack is a savage. Jack hides behind the masks. Jack isn't sorry Simon is dead. Jack doesn't care about anything but surviving. Jack uses the pig's head as sacrifice for the beast. The creature in the cave is Jack.

The creature in the cave is Beo. The creature in the cave is Jack.

Who is Beo? Who is Jack?

Jack had to get back home to Ralph. Jack knew the beast was hungry, and that it wanted sacrifices. Jack liked the darkness.

 _He was a hunter all right. No one doubted that._

The creature in the cave had taken the last drink from his thermos. He knew that he would have to find water. He knew he would have to leave the cave, the darkness that he loved.

He still had some food, which he munched on as he carved letters into the wall. He was running out of space in the area he was working on, so some of the words overlapped. He didn't want to move, though. He was too focused on carving the letters into the wall and all. He stayed there, carving. He carved and carved. His hands ached and he knew they would form calluses, but he didn't care as long as he could kept carving.

The creature in the cave reached up and rubbed some of the mask off of his face without realizing what he had done. As soon as he did it, and felt the mask rubbed off of his cheek, he was filled with a horrible dread and panic. He was exposed, part of him was exposed. He needed the mask, he needed the mask.

The creature in the cave pressed the knife into his hand. There was pain, but the need for the mask overpowered it. The creature cupped his hands and let the blood puddle. Then, he used it to cover his cheek once again, as it should be. With the rest, as it was still pouring, he applied another coat to the rest of his face. When he was done, he wiped his palm on his pants, and again on his other arm. The blood eventually seemed to stop, and it calmed the creature knowing that if he needed to, he could do it again.

However, the calm didn't last long before the creature in the cave started to feel slightly sick. He knew that he needed water to keep going, and ate some more food in hopes that it would make his head feel better. He felt better after eating, but wasn't calmed by the lack of water in his bag. He knew he would have to find it somewhere, somehow, but didn't know where to start.

The sacrifice seemed fairly healthy. Alive, of course. The creature in the cave wondered if he could follow the path of the sacrifice and find nourishment that way.

The creature rose to his feet and walked around in the dimly-lit darkness. The fire was not helpful, but it was warm and helped the creature to see his handiwork, the words carved out in a pattern that made sense to him. It seemed that it would never make sense to anyone else. Nobody really understood the creature. The people that were worth keeping were the people that knew that and tried to understand him the best they could. Most people didn't try. Nobody wanted to.

The creature took a few steps, but soon realized that he was going to have to sleep before he could do anything. He was tired, and it had been at least one anthem, maybe two since he last slept. The creature didn't like sleeping because sleeping meant dreaming, but it seemed to be a necessary evil.

The creature in the cave laid down and closed his eyes.

 _I know who Beo is._

 _I know who Jack is._

 _But who am I?_

~.~.

 _The fifth day_

-Whimsy's POV-

We're lousy Careers.

Everyone's been super tense because it's kind of gone unsaid. And I would rather wander the musty moldy dark woods than say that out loud, but everyone knows that it's true. It's the fifth night, and with six Careers, we haven't done much.

We had a pretty successful bloodbath haul, true. And we did get rid of Winchester, who I wouldn't have wanted to face alone. Someone killed the boy from Six. What was his name again? I totally forget. I didn't even remember what he looked like until his face showed in the sky. I already kind of forget again. He had black hair I think. Or was he the kid with brown hair? Oh, I can't keep those outer District tributes straight! I'm sure I'd know them if I saw them, but I can't pull them to the front of my mind.

Oh, Wyatt! Yes, that was his name. Now I remember. I remember because it rhymes with Quiet, which he was. Right. And from guy from Seven, he was quiet too I think… What was his name? I'm not sure. I don't really want to think about it in all honesty.

Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to say we're lousy Careers. I mean, we're doing just about the average, and now that we've found the watering hole finally, we'll be able to find any tribute that wants a drink. But you'd think that with six of us, all trained and worthy, we'd be able to end this Games quickly. The problem is just the expansive Arena, I guess. Mr. Kozart's fault, not ours. He must have known we'd need a handicap to keep us from taking everyone out in two and a half days.

I'm starting to get a little bit worried, though. Compared to the other Careers, it's possible my skills just won't be up to par. I can pretend I could one-up Tempest any day, but that doesn't mean I actually could. And Bellona… I wouldn't stand a chance. The only thing I really have going for me is my charm at this point. If I can be on good terms with everyone, I can get out if things get hairy. And trust me, things are going to get hairy. I can tell.

Take six people and throw them together in a high-pressure situation. Add the pressure of honor. Trust me, honor is pressure. Knowing that out of hundreds, you're the one. You're the one that's here, for whatever reason. Knowing that the likelihood you would be here is in reality close to nothing. Knowing that they had faith in you, and that your District is counting on you to get back. That if you muff it up, there will be hundreds of people saying "if I were her, _I_ wouldn't have made that mistake."

Technically, I shouldn't even be here. Fortune should. It was just dumb luck that she got pregnant and I ended up here. I couldn't have beaten her in a fight otherwise.

That's beside the point, though. The point is that it's a big honor, true. But it's also so much pressure. Having six kids, three of which are extremely headstrong, all of which are extremely passionate, and it's going to get hairy eventually. Especially as the numbers drop, and each of us is closer to Victory.

Underestimation is key at this point. It's become a game of strategy. I could never win a game of power, but if there's a game I can play using my adorable looks and charms, I will play it. Tempest and Bellona will be so focused on each other, as will Branden and Ezie, that I'll be able to get out. The beauty is that there's no big stink between myself and Alma. If anything, we like each other better than the others. If I just keep playing the game right, I'll be able to make it, and hopefully the firecrackers will blow each other up.

This has been the first night with no faces in the sky, though, which I think is good news. Hopefully the crowds are being entertained by the antics of the tributes until we can locate them and kill them all. Hopefully that happens: or most of it happens: before things get hairy.

Finding our way out of the dark woods took about a year and a half. Alright, so it only took about a day it seems, but it felt like a year and a half. Anything is better than that tunnel, though. The anxiety of it all being my idea and the pressure of my allies that it lead to something useful was suffocating. Almost as suffocating as the horrible, hot humidity that made me wheeze in that stupid dark forest. At least we could walk upright again. At least we could use the sleeping bags again. That was certainly a relief.

The pond is beautiful. The waterfall flows pleasantly into the room full of translucent rocks. The pond is clear and fresh, and delightfully cool to the face after a long day travelling in what felt like a jungle. Like, hello? I thought we were in a cave. Ugh, oh well. The point is that the pond is a pretty place. There's a pile of rocks in the room that looks as if it were made for a tribute to hide behind, but five checks behind still gave us no hints. Maybe Mr. Kozart just set it up there to fuck with us. Maybe we'd get lucky and find a tribute there eventually. It was like a mousetrap, almost. Too good to be true, but too tempting to resist. We'd snatch up whoever tried to hide.

By far the best part about the pond, however, wasn't the beautiful rocks or the gentle flow of crystal water: in fact, the noise was actually quite annoying after a while, it really called the bladder to action: it was definitely the natural light of the sun that shone through the hole of the cave. Feeling sunlight, real (artificial) sunlight, warmed my skin and made me feel totally reenergized. I may be as pasty as mayonnaise, but I certainly enjoyed the warmth of the sun.

Tempest feels so comfortable she decides to strip for a shower. Eventually, I decide to join her. Undies and all. I trust the guys not to look (Ezie and Branden would be too busy watching Tempest anyways, and Alma is super gay), and even if they do, I really don't mind. I'm not too shy about that kind of thing. Bellona did a sink shower.

After Tempest and I washed off, Branden takes a turn. Alma just sticks his head under and washes out his thick, curly hair. Ezie rinses off, too. It's extremely refreshing, and I end up in much higher spirits after being cleaned and sun-dried.

"We're hot on someone's trail," Tempest says as we split rations for dinner. "I can feel it."

"Tomorrow for sure," Branden says. He's always quick to back her up. So's Ezie, of course, but at least he has a bit of his own free will. He backed me up when I suggested we go into the tunnel, after all.

It's clear that there are many different loyalties within the alliance. That's the problem of having such a big group. Hopefully it stays together long enough for the biggest threats to be taken out. Some of these tributes don't seem like much on their own, but with allies, have the potential to be dangerous. Not to mention Beo's outspoken willingness to do whatever it takes. We still have quite a few tributes to take out before we can split up. Splitting means one more group to worry about. So far, though, nobody's played dirty, and everyone's done their part.

"We'd better." Bellona's still slightly salty about crawling so long and getting nowhere. But we aren't really _nowhere_. We just haven't actually succeeded at our goal yet. But it certainly feels like we're at least closer.

The sky grows dimmer and dimmer, and I wish I could see the sun set behind the temple. I'm sure it would be beautiful to watch.

Ezie offered to take watch, but after he'd done it three nights straight, we shut down the offer. If he doesn't trust the rest of us, he can just leave. If he's going to be any kind of useful, though, he needs to be well-rested. He reluctantly lays down with the others, Alma and I staying up on watch as the sky is lit only by the light of the moon and night time comes upon us.

.

 _The fifth night_

The others doze off fairly quickly, leaving myself and my District partner awake together. I feel like I should say something to him, you know, start some friendly District conversation. For once, I'm not sure what to say. A lot of my questions would be far too personal for this kind of environment, I'm soon realizing.

"Do you think the alliance is going to split?" I ask quietly, but only once I'm positive the others are asleep.

"Of course. Always does."

"But I mean, like… Soon?"

He gives me a glance. "I've considered it happening, yes."

"What would… We do?" He must notice the tension in my shoulders as I ask the question, because he gives my back a light pat.

"We'd be fine. Don't worry about it." His dark eyes were full of nothing but kindness in the night.

"We'd stick together?"

"Of course. Whimsy, you're strategic. You know that we're not going to be targets. Our job now is just to not get caught in the crossfire. …Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh, sorry, I just… Nobody's really called me strategic before. I guess it's just a bit odd," I say with a small, quiet laugh. He looks surprised at that fact, so I add a, "Why are you looking at me like that?" and a playful bump on the shoulder.

"I guess they just don't see it."

"Not everyone's immune to my adorable face and whimsical charms," I say simply, which gets another laugh out of him. The noise is almost as refreshing as the water felt when we found the pond.

"I don't have to be into girls to see that you're quite charming. The charmers, though, that's what you wanna be. You gotta watch out for the charmers, because they're usually smart. That's what my Dad says."

"Your Dad?"

"Oh yeah. He works as a trainer. He wasn't too involved with my training, but he's kind of the inspiration to my striving to volunteer. Y'know how it is."

"Yeah, I guess." I try not to think of everything I left behind. I shove it all away by getting back to the topic before. "Well, I'm not really that smart anyways."

"Don't say that, you're plenty smart."

"I jumped into this without as much as a second thought, Alma. Besides, after so many times being told I can't be pretty and smart, I chose my path and stuck with it."

"Whoever told you that doesn't know a single goddamn thing," he says.

"I know that now. But when you're a developing teen and they tell you that…" I shrug. "I'm not a super genius or anything."

"Neither am I. Neither are any of those guys."

"Maybe Ezie."

Alma considers. "Maybe. He knows more than he lets on, that one." The District Two boy stirs with a cough, and for a second the two of us are afraid he'd been awake to hear us talking about him. He just rolls over and kept on sleeping, though, and we eventually let out a sigh of relief.

"Would you consider leaving the big group? Early?"

Alma sighs a little bit. "Not for a while. Unless things get really tense. Having strong allies isn't a bad thing."

"I'm mostly concerned about…" I thought about the other tributes in my head. The truth was, most of them I had already forgotten the names of. I didn't make a tremendous effort to learn, as they weren't important to me. They'd all have to be dead for me to make it back home, and I decided to humanize them as little as possible. "Um…" I sighed. "See, I'm not so smart after all."

"Hey, don't be down too long. After all, you've made it this far. We'll keep on making it. District One will have a Victor this year." He sounds so genuine, and he is. He really is. We sit in silence for a while after that. I look up at the moon for a while, but seeing its soft light reflect off the waterfall, hearing the gentle flow of water, makes me extremely tired. Before I know it, I'm yawning like crazy.

"Hey, you can't be tired yet," he says, giving me a shake. I notice him stifle a yawn, though. It's crazy how they're practically contagious.

"Sorry," I say, laughing a bit and yawning again. "I'll just splash some water on my face. That'll help me stay awake."

"Good thought."

We crawl over to the pond together. The cold water feels good on my face, and definitely wakes me up.

I look over at Alma, who had submerged his head. I roll my eyes, laughing a bit at his desperation to stay awake. That is, until I realize suddenly that Alma isn't moving. A wound in his back is pouring out blood.

My limbs freeze.

I can't move. I can't make myself do anything.

My heart pounds, my eyes widen, and I can't even make myself retreat. The sight of my friend in a puddle of blood caused my joints to lock up. My heart races, and I start to hyperventilate as tears threaten to come. I try to let out a sob, a scream, but nothing comes out. It's as if my vocal chords have stopped vibrating forever.

I always thought this was something only seen on TV or something those people who were untrained did. But no. Here it is, happening to me. I can't speak, I can't yell, I couldn't do anything but sit there and gape in horror at the scene, at the smell of blood, at the thought that Alma was just breathing a minute ago, and now he's not.

It's a miracle that I'm even able to think clearly enough to locate the figure that did it. Unluckily, though, before I could do anything, he starts to approach me. He's swift, probably hoping for a quick kill before I get my bearings. I know he's going to kill me and I can't do anything to help it.

 _Alma Alma Alma Alma's dead fuck Whimsy, Whimsy, scream Whimsy SCREAM WHIMSY FIGHT WHIMSY RUN WHIMSY Alma Alma Alma's dead WHIMSY SCREAM!_

I can't make myself fight back. I can't make myself look away from my District partner. I scream internally, frustrated and angry that it won't come out like I want it to. I clench my fists tightly, trying to get my body to do something instead of just freezing like this! I can't look away from Alma's body, lifeless by now, covered in blood that stinks like hell, just waiting to have a cannon shot.

The knife is raised quickly, and everything goes into slow motion. I hear a loud voice shout, "Not today, punk!" Ezie. The killer knows he's been caught and quickly retreats into the darkness, as everyone else sits up and wipes their eyes blearily.

"What the fuck happened?" Tempest sounds tired, and pissed that she was awakened.

"Hold on a minute." Branden clicked on a lantern, and suddenly the events became very clear. It's an even worse sight up close. Tempest quickly gets up on her feet, Bellona following, as they scout the room and surrounding area for the killer. Branden checks to make sure Alma's dead, but soon a cannon confirms it.

"Whimsy, what the hell happened?!" Tempest asks as she storms back in. I'm still frozen, not sure what to say or do next, terrified for my life.

"I-I didn't-"

"We're not accepting of betrayal," Tempest growls, stepping forward. Ezie grabs her shoulder and holds her back.

"Relax, Punk, it wasn't Whimsy."

"Who was it then?" Bellona asks, sending a small glare my way. I realize that I have absolutely no idea who it was. I didn't get a good read on him I was so afraid. _Would they really believe that I betrayed the alliance and killed my friend?!_ I try to make myself tell them what happened, but my lips won't work and I end up blubbering out nonsense. The emotions coursing through me are too much to put into words right now. I want to cry, but I've built so many walls against it the tears don't come. I can't do anything.

 _Tell them Whimsy Alma Alma Alma oh my God Alma TELL THEM WHIMSY oh my God Alma…_

"I don't accept dishonorable skanks!" Tempest says firmly, but Ezie holds her back some more. I have to remember to be thankful for him later.

I try to get something out when Ezie says, "It was the boy from 10. Hartwin." I nod quickly at that.

"How do you know?" Bellona asks. Tempest seems to trust him immediately, but Branden and Bellona are still suspicious.

"I was awake, that's how I know." My lower lip starts to quiver as he gives me a gentle pat on the shoulder. "It's flattering that you think I'm a secret genius, Punk."

"H-How did you-" At least the words are coherent. Somewhat.

"I told you, I was awake. I was trying to sleep, but it wasn't happening for me. I didn't mean to overhear your One Talk, punk."

"I don't know," Branden says. Is he looking for a reason to make this tense? I take a shaking breath, trying to jump in and defend myself, but nothing is working. I can't stop thinking about my ally, whose heart was beating just fifteen minutes ago and now… Alma oh my God.

"Listen, Branden, look all you want, you won't find a bloody weapon around. The bastard took it when he fled. Look at her. Do you _really_ think _she_ did that?"

As if the word is some kind of cue, the tears start to pour out of my eyes and my entire body starts to shake. I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my face in them, trying to keep the cries quiet. I don't want them and the entire nation to see my weakness. But maybe it will show them the truth.

"Come on, you guys are all smart. Use your brains. Don't let outer District tributes rip us apart before we rip them a new one."

There was a silence, only filled by my sobs. I feel absolutely pathetic, but I can't stop it now. It's like a fist is squeezing my lungs, as I wheeze and sob, the warm tears pouring out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

It's one thing when it's a stranger that's trying to kill you. It's a totally different thing when it's a friend.

Now I know that. Now, now when it's too late. They never mentioned it in the Academy. Words couldn't describe the pain that hurt my chest with every breath.

"He's right guys," Tempest said. "She couldn't have done it. The Ten boy must have done it and ran, the coward."

"Let's get out of here," Bellona suggests. Her voice is the gentlest I've heard it since meeting her. Maybe that should make me feel better, that's probably what she's trying to do. But it just makes me feel worse. No matter what anyone does, it will never be enough. It will never make me better. The others pack up supplies, splitting the contents of Alma's backpacks between each of the other five before I'm being coaxed to my feet by Tempest, who helps me out of the room, back into the miserable dark woods. We don't stray too far from the entrance to the cave, though.

"Let's camp out here for the night," Bellona says, and the others agree, sinking down. I stay standing, though. I can't sleep. I can't sleep after what I just saw. I can't trust that a tribute isn't going to cut us all down in the night.

I feel hands on my shoulders and am suddenly looking straight into Ezie's eyes. They're bright blue, almost glow-in-the dark like electricity, and they have a look in them that is intense and gentle all at once.

"We're going to sleep here, alright? You and I, we'll stay awake, we'll make sure nothing happens to anyone else. Tomorrow, we'll hunt for the bastard, we'll get 'im, we'll get 'im and you can finish him, and we'll be safe, alright?"

I swallow hard, trying to keep the sobs in as he coaxes me to sit down and turns a lantern on. He doesn't try to talk to me at all or say anything about what happened, but I appreciate that. The tears continue to flow for what feels like forever. He hands me a pack of tissues from a backpack, which I use to blow my nose between sobs. He even lets me cry into his shoulder for a little while, even though it got his shirt all wet and probably snotty as fuck. It's really appreciated, though.

The others may be laying down, but I'm sure none of them are sleeping. I'd have a hard time sleeping to the sounds of misery and the knowledge that we're in a fight to the death too. I don't really blame them.

"We're gonna get that bastard," Tempest murmurs, sounding just as fiery as she did when we met and she talked about being the Victor. "He'll pay for this."

I try to thank her, but no noise comes out but choked gasps and whimpers. Ezie rubs my back softly as I try to get a hold of myself. It takes hours and hours before I'm fully quiet, and at that point all I want is to sleep and never wake up.

"Here, punk, have some food and water." Ezie gives me some crackers and the thermos, which I take, even though I'm not hungry at all. I eat slowly and take a few sips of water, taking a deep breath. Even if I'm quiet, I'm far from okay. I feel horrible, and the visions still aren't going to go away.

"Get some sleep. I'll wake up someone else."

"Thank you," I whimper. "For saving me. Multiple times."

"Of course, Punk. That's what allies do."

I give him a nod, trying to smile, but soon it wavers with more tears. The fact that I can't smile anymore is so sad I just want to cry some more for that reason alone. I'm angry and frustrated that I'm like this, so vulnerable and weak. What if they think I'm not worth it anymore?

There are probably hundreds of girls back home saying, "If _I_ were her, _I_ wouldn't have been friends with him." It's easy to say, but it's not so easy to do. Those girls have no idea what the hell they're talking about. Now I see that. Now that everything's changed.

I sniffled and laid down on the floor, using my backpack as a pillow. It wasn't very comfortable, but I couldn't stand to be awake anymore. It was too sad, it hurt too much, I was sick of it.

As much as I tried, though, I couldn't stop thinking about it. About the pain, the grief, the light in his eyes, the good times, the laughter, all of it destroyed, all of it tinted this horrible blue color knowing that the memories were all gone, they contained a ghost, and memories were all they'd ever be.

" _District One will have a Victor this year," he'd said. He was so genuine. He really, really, really, really fucking was._

" _District One will have a Victor this year."_

The reality of the situation sinks in with a cold, creeping realization.

That Victor's going to have to be me.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Well. That was a zinger.**_

 _ **R.I.P. Alma. What a good character, he's going to be so missed. Emrys, if you're reading still, I hope you liked what I did with him, and his friendship with Whimsy. He will live on for a while, that's for sure. Thanks for him again, it was a joy to write with him! I hope he rests well wherever he is, poor guy.**_

 _ **This was another meaty, long chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it! This story's really picking up and it's so much fun to write. It feels really good getting another update of this puppy out. We are officially down to eleven! Things are only going downhill from here!**_

 _ **Sponsoring is still open so feel free to partake in it if you wish. Hope, your gift was received and will be touched on next chapter :)**_

 _ **So, let me know your thoughts through that magical thing called reviews! Each and every one is appreciated!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Do you think the Careers are going to last a while still, or tensions will end the alliance? Predictions for how it's going to go down?**_

 _ **See you in Sad Town, all XD We're just getting started.**_


	22. Memories and Mysteries

_The fifth night_

Torque's POV-

Our dam is in the works.

There's just a couple problems with that though.

Problem #1: Careers.

Static and I decide the best course of action would be to hide and wait them out. They surely wouldn't stay there forever, considering there were plenty of tributes scattered around the temple, and from what the two of us had seen, we were really the only ones that had found the water source so far. And neither of us has a death wish, thanks anyways fam.

Together, the two of us decide to go back to the dark forest. The two of us fighting six trained Careers just doesn't seem like a good idea to either party.

Problem #2: We ended up lost. We thought we knew where we were, and exactly where the entrance to the pond was, but we were mistaken. We realize that pretty quickly. And, once you're lost in the dark woods you just have to keep going until you find where you were going. We had been wandering for a while, trying to find where we were. Finally, we give up and plop down, just for a minute, to recuperate.

"You wanna take watch first?" she asks, sucking on the last of a small batch of berries we'd found earlier. My stomach rumbles at the thought of having food. We've been able to find enough to get by, but strictly get by. I'm sure if I wasn't so used to being starving, my body would just about give up by now. Luckily, working hard, eating little, and pouring money into a plethora of debt it seemed we'd never repay had some good use after all.

Thinking about home, about my sisters, makes my heart ache. I'd like nothing more than to get back there as soon as possible. Unfortunately, if I'm a pencil, Static is the little eraser on the end, and neither of us have weapons. And we're both far too smart to do something as rash as jumping into a fight unarmed.

"Hey," she said, bumping my shoulder. "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Just… Thinking about home, that's all. Anyways, um… I mean, you were on watch last, fam. So unless you wanna escape panic-inducing nightmares, I suppose I'm up."

"I'll sleep." We sit and suck on leaves to pretend we have something to eat for dinner, waiting for the anthem to start playing to symbolize that night has come. Before much longer, though, we see another tribute approaching.

It's Hartwin. District 10.

I gesture over to where he's nearing us, and feel Static tense beside me.

"He's by himself," I whisper. "We could double-team him."

She takes a second to consider.

"No," she whispers. "Look there. He's got a sword."

"Oh, pissbiscuits," I hiss under my breath.

"Pissbiscuits?"

"Don't question it. He's coming and we have to decide what to do."

"We don't have many options," she whispers. "Unless…" She turns around suddenly. "Let's go." She links her arm around mine and starts off, as fast as a little bunny. I don't know where she's going, but I follow (like I have much of a choice). "There's a tunnel here, I saw it. Let's go!" I notice the hole just as she's disappearing into it, and follow her into the darkness. The torch we have illuminates her fiery hair as both of us crawl as fast as we can.

"Where do you think this leads?" I ask, practically breathless from the adrenaline and the rush.

"Hopefully a different angle on the pond," she says, "But I don't know for sure."

We continue to crawl as fast as we can through the tunnel, only stopping when we hear a cannon boom.

"Hartwin must have gone to the pond," Static says, soon back to moving full speed.

"Poor kid," I say quietly. "Good thing we made it out though, fam. Here's to hoping this gets us back to the dam."

"Just keep moving. Let me know if you get tired though. After all, we should probably be sleeping."

"I'll let you know. Let's go for it." We keep moving forward through the tunnel.

~.~.

-Trekker's POV-

" _Come on you big slowpoke!" I looked behind my shoulder after running ahead to make sure he was still there and didn't wander away. He had this somewhat distant smile on his face, like he was daydreaming or something. I would later learn that it was because he was just so smitten by me. He was still following, though. He seemed to come down from his daydream and caught up with me._

" _Sorry," he said sheepishly. I was used to it by now, though. It was cute, though. How he got lost in his thoughts. I didn't even know what he was thinking about back then, and I still thought it was cute._

" _We're almost there, don't worry. I hope you're not bored when we get there."_

" _I could never be bored. Not when I'm with you."_

 _I laughed, wondering if maybe he was trying to be flirty. Maybe he was just being friendly. After all, he was a really good friend. I mean, I had a lot of friends, but he didn't. I was aware of that, but I didn't mind because I cared about him just as much, if not more, than I cared for anyone else._

 _It had been a long time getting there. A long time to figure out how I was feeling, to come to terms with it, to normalize that I was gay, to tell my support system, it was a long process. But even after all that, I was still in so deep. I still felt so strongly and was too shy to really do anything about it. As long as we were together, though, it was alright. I mean, I always felt it when we were together, but usually I was so happy with him I didn't even think about it._

" _We're almost there," I said. We walked side by side for a while. I was trying to work up the courage to take his hand. It was right there. It would have just been one step to the left, to accidentally brush up against it and see if he returned the gesture. Or I could have just grabbed it, if I really felt brave. Eventually, though, I chickened out. I didn't want to make this awkward. The last thing I wanted was to lose him. At the time, the thought was basically impossible._

 _We finally got to the little niche I'd found. I didn't even touch him. I was still trying to figure out what to say. I had no idea if he was even queer. I kept thinking about how awkward it would be if he was straight. I hadn't planned ahead very well, considering I didn't even know if he was accepting. Maybe there was a reason he had no friends. Maybe… God, it was torture. I kept thinking about all the ways this could turn into a huge train wreck._

" _It's nice," he said, glancing over at me. I flipped the hair out of my eyes and hopped up on the old piece of brick wall that had probably once been tall and strong before time took its course._

" _It's just nice to get away from everyone, y'know?" I bit my lip. I couldn't even make myself look at him. I was so scared. I had never felt like this before. I was used to being the cool kid. Hell, I even gave a lot of my friends romantic advice. I'd never been in a romantic relationship before, but I gave them advice anyways. And now here I was. It was happening to me. It was so surreal, honestly. I couldn't make myself do anything. We had bonded so quickly. I hadn't known him nearly as long as some of my other friends, but just like that, we ended up like… Like this._

" _Should I… Um, sit?"_

" _Huh? Oh, yeah, 'f course, there's plenty of room!" There wasn't, but I didn't mind. I knew if I didn't, I never would have done any of it._

 _We sat shoulder-to-shoulder for a while. I couldn't look over. The way the sun was shining in his hair, reflecting off of his eyes, it was just… Too much for me. I loved to see the green of his eyes brought out. He had this baby face, even as a teen. Neither of us said anything. I was trying to figure out what to say to him. I usually didn't get this tongue-tied, but when we were alone, and when I had so many words on the tip of my tongue, I had no idea what to do. He was so close. I knew the likelihood I would ever get another chance like this was next to nothing._

" _I'm glad I have you," he said finally. "Like, really glad. Like, I tease you a lot 'nd stuff but… I don't know what I'd do without you."_

" _I'm glad too."_

 _His food nudged mine and stayed there. It was a strange way to be in contact, but I wasn't worried._

" _You have a lot of people though, at the end of the day."_

" _None that I like as much as you. None that I trust as much as you."_

 _He just gave a content sigh. We sat there like that for a while as the sun was getting ready to set. His shoulder and foot pressed against mine. Surely there was no way he would be this close to me without feeling the same way, right?_

 _I made myself look over. He looked just as Bronx as I remembered. Not abnormally attractive, but… Real. Cute. I couldn't explain it really, I just liked to look at him. He looked over too, in that same moment. We were so close._

 _That was when my courage decided to show up. I close my eyes and go for it. Our noses bump but he doesn't pull away, taking a breath before my lips slide against his. My heart was pounding, and I was about ready to pull back and run to District Five when he kissed back._

 _It wasn't my first kiss. My first kiss was actually Armoni Croft. He was one of the first people I came out to. He was real polite about it, asked me if I wanted to get it over with, and I agreed. And that was just awkward because I didn't know what was happening. But this wasn't like that at all._

This _was a kiss. There was nothing I wanted more than to freeze in that moment and never go home. It was just a little bit awkward, but that didn't matter._

 _We were both smiling when I pulled back._

" _Sorry," I whispered. I was more surprised than anything._

" _H-Huh?" He still looked dazed, but this time he was looking into my eyes._

" _I… I probably should've asked first…"_

" _N-No… It's fine."_

" _I couldn't quite read how you felt about me, but…" I felt just a little bit stupid, but I just wasn't really sure what to say. I still had no idea what I was doing, really. "Big risks pay off sometimes, right?"_

" _Yeah…" I couldn't wipe the grin off my face, and soon he smiled back, but I could tell something was bothering him. He spoke next. "But… Why me?" I thought he might have asked that. Luckily I knew how to answer him. "I mean, there are so many other people that-"_

 _I didn't let him finish. "Because they don't make me feel like you do. Simple as that." I saw him relax and slid my hand into his._

" _Oh." His smile is just too irresistible, and he's quick to return the second kiss._

I wake up from the dream just feeling plain sad. Dreaming about the good times just made it even more painful to go back to reality. Sometimes I think I'm done thinking about it, but I will never really be done thinking about it. Now I see why people talk about never being able to get over their first love.

I consider sitting up and letting Elias get some more sleep. After all, he didn't sleep very much last night, Wyatt's screams kept both of us awake. They were so close…. It makes me worry that a real threat is right under our noses and we don't know it.

As much as I want to sit up and get Elias, or worry about what's to come, my eyelids are so heavy. I roll over and try to go back to sleep, hoping that I won't dream this time.

 _Blood dripping off the tip of the razor. Hitting a white tile floor._

 _I'm in the crazy ward, surrounded by criminals in the Justice Building. The blood is warm and thick as it runs down, puddling slightly by my elbows. I don't know how I got here. I squeeze tears out of my eyes and look around the room, trying to find something familiar. Anything I recognize._

" _Trekker, help!" Sequoia._

 _I step back, trying to ignore the face of my ally. She's covered in blood, reaching her arms out to me. They're cuffed, she can't move them. She pushes them towards me, but there was nothing I could do and I knew it. I have the key, but I didn't want to unlock her. Finally, I make myself move forward and take the cuffs. The second I touch it, a shock sends me flying backwards, gasping._

" _You can't free her!" shouts a very familiar voice. Bronx laughs, loud and echoing, as I try to make myself stand. I try, but I just can't make myself move. "Finally, the infallible Trekker Tidwell collapses! There has to be a day you finally give up. You can't be strong forever. The weight of the world will crush you alive!"_

" _No…" I gasp, which sends pain through my lungs, and try to stand up. Suddenly, the ground around me starts to fill with water. I struggle to get to my feet as the water encloses me._

" _You are not invincible," Bronx says. He sounds amused, proud of himself. "You can't do this forever."_

" _No…" I get up on my hands and knees before I have to stop. I feel vomit pushing at my throat._

" _You couldn't save her and you can't save yourself."_

" _Please…" I cough as more water flows in._

" _I'm not sorry."_

 _Tears push at the corners of my eyes as I do everything to keep my head above the water. I inhale some through my nose, sending more pain through my body as I cough and hack._

" _You can't save them."_

 _I gasp and cough as a new noise fills my ears. Elias._

" _You can't save him either."_

 _I gasp and wave my arms in the water, but it feels like there are weights on my legs and I can't break the surface anymore. I'm suffocating, I'm dying, I-_

My eyes fly open when the sound of a cannon wakes me up. I quickly turn around to see Elias there, breathing a sigh of relief. I don't want to lose him while we're together. I already failed Sequoia.

"I'm okay," he says. "You're okay and so am I."

I take a deep breath, as his words take a second to sink in. We're okay, it's someone else that died, not him, not me. I let out a small sigh. I haven't always been this frantic. It's just the effect of the Games.

"Right," I say, but it probably sounds more like a gasp.

"I still have these, remember?" he shows me the dark gray cylinders in a pouch he's wearing around his shoulder. "Nobody's gonna hurt us." I survey the weapons, bombs he said, he knows what they do and how to use them. Finally, I give a little nod. "We aren't defenseless, right?" I nod again, swallowing the panicked tears back down. "There you go then."

I rub my eyes, sighing. I can't believe _I'm_ being calmed down by a fifteen-year-old. How did I become this fucking broken? It makes me mad all over again. I have to take a breath to distract myself, trying to think of anything but the very thing that's making me miserable.

"Sorry."

He looks up. "Huh?"

"I…" I sigh. "God, I'm a mess." I laugh. It's funny, really, how terrible I feel. I guess I'm so used to laughing it off that it's my first instinct. I feel horrible, but I laugh, which makes me feel worse and better all at once.

"Fear is a natural thing," Elias says, lightly tapping my shoulder in a gesture that is probably supposed to be comforting. "It's all got to do with evolution."

Leave it to Elias to comfort me with science. I remember just weeks ago, when I was the one that did the comforting. I remember hugging Brister on reaping day and telling him everything was going to be alright. Now I'm just about as jumpy as a ten-year-old that has to be babied by an ally that's years younger than me. Three years? Wait, I'm nineteen now, so it'd be four. Oh God.

I know the kid's just doing his best to help, so I don't direct my anger at him. That wouldn't fear. I'm just mad at myself, that's all. It's my fault that I'm like this, not his. I let my guard down and paid the price for it. And I'm still paying the price for it.

"I'm still sorry. I… I should be able to… To do _something_ , I-" I don't blame the Capitol for sponsoring him and not me. I've proven to be pretty worthless so far. I don't want to die, but so far I haven't done anything to prove it. Probably because half of the time I spent accepting my inevitable death. But I have to get back. I might be able to get control of my life back. Maybe this is what it takes to get control back. Now I know what I have to do. The question is just if I'll ever get the chance to do it.

There are broken relationships that I have to fix. It'll be healthy to fix them. I can't just let them go. I wasn't ready for what happened. Now I'm ready to handle it.

"You're fine, Trekker. Even just having another person here is useful."

"As a meat shield." I mutter, not meaning for him to hear it. He does, because he draws back slightly.

"No, I meant- sorry, I'm not very good at the whole comforting thing."

"You're fine," I sigh. "I think I know what you meant. Just having someone that'll have your back and keep watch and stuff."

"Yeah, exactly." He gives me an apologetic look, so for his sake, I smile. He really is doing his best and I appreciate that. Based on his expression, though I know he's observant enough to tell it's fake.

"Go back to sleep," he tells me. "We'll tackle it in the morning."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll wake you if I'm suspicious of anything, okay?"

I swallow hard and nod before curling up again.

I'm not going to get back to sleep, but for Elias's sake, I'll try. Eventually I get into a misty, dreamless, very light sleep.

 _The sixth day_

"So, our biggest priority is water," I say, trying to stay focused on business. "You said you had an idea where that might be?"

"If my idea of the Arena is right, I have a hunch."

"You're really a smart kid," I tell him, honestly, "I honestly could sit here for years and have no idea where the hell anything is."

"Don't tell me I'm smart until we're sure I'm right." He stood up and gave a slightly playful grin down at me. I crack a small, real smile and stand up.

"Alright. Deal."

"One more thing."

"Hm?"

"It's going to require we go back to…"

"Oh." He doesn't need to finish for me to know where he means. The room where Sequoia died. With the snakes. "You're… Sure?"

"I… No. It might not… Work, but… It's either that or climb back up the pit."

That option sounds even worse. So many things could go wrong trying to get all the way back up that pit. Then again, going back into the room where Sequoia was bitten… That didn't sound all too great either.

"I…. Don't know, but…"

"Are you over eighty percent sure that it is feasible for both of us to get out alive and to a water source going back into that room?"

The boy bit his lip, but he looked scared more than anything. I could immediately tell that the question put too much pressure on him.

"Y'know what, let's do it."

"Trekker, I'm not really sure at all-"

"It's better than sitting around here and dying of thirst." He looks nervous, so I put my hands on his shoulders. "I trust you, kid. I trust your brains, even if you don't. Let's go explore. The snakes that were released are all dead, remember? As long as we don't have to break any pots we should be fine."

"Alright." He seems slightly more confident at that, but not by much.

I take a breath to brace myself. The last thing we need is for me to freak out again. I lead the way into the room and Elias follows. Going back there isn't actually as bad as I thought it would be. The room itself is just the same as it was when we arrived, save for the shards of broken pot on the ground scattering around where Sequoia had thrown it.

"What's in here?" I ask. Even though it's not as bad as I expected, I don't really want to stick around if I don't have to.

"Here." He walked over to one of the walls, where a square panel was on the wall. "When we were first exploring, I noticed it. Trekker, I really don't know if this is going to lead anywhere."

I squat down to examine the opening. It has a hole in it, a key-shaped hole. "That's odd."

"That's what I thought. But… That means that…"

I look up at the two pots that are left standing.

"It must be in one of those."

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. "How are we supposed to know which one?"

"I wish I remembered the pattern on the first one we broke…" he said, straining his brain to remember. I have no idea. I had shut that entire couple hours out of my memory completely. Now, though, I regret it. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

"Wait a minute. I have an idea." He takes one of the cylinders out of the satchel and grins at me.

"You clever bastard. Are you sure you want to waste this though?"

"It's not a waste. Unless you'd like to choose one of the pots to drop and blindly hope it doesn't have a snake in it."

"What if you blow up the key too?"

"This one has the least firepower of them. If the key is made of stone or metal, it should be fine. Enough to kill snakes, and keep keys."

"Smart boy. Let's do it." He puts the bomb inside of one of the jars.

"You go hide in the doorway. Don't want to get hit with shards."

"Alright." I go around and use the stone by the doorway as a shield. Elias uses some flint to light one of the bombs, quickly coming around and joining me as the fuse runs out and a small explosion happens. Shards of the pot go flying. It takes a minute or two for the smoke to clear, but when we do, we see the spread-out remnants of what would have been a dangerous specimen.

"Good call," I whisper.

Elias looks slightly bothered. "I would have dropped that one," he said quietly.

"But you didn't. Let's get the other one."

I'm about to drop it but Elias calls, "Wait!"

"Huh?"

"We… Better safe than sorry, right?" He looks nervous so I nod and set it down.

"Good thought."

We blow up the other one, and when the smoke clears, we see a stone key. He picked up the key and put it in the opening on the door. When he did, the stone slid away, revealing a tunnel.

"You're really smart," I tell him, bumping his shoulder, which causes him to laugh.

"I'm not completely correct yet. This still might not lead us to water."

"Either way at least we had fun and got to blow some shit up."

"That's what matters," he said jokingly. "C'mon, let's see where this leads." Elias crawls into the tunnel.

"I'm right behind you kid," I say as I follow.

The tunnel is sloped upwards, that's immediately obvious. It's a ramp, it seems, an upwards ramp. We keep crawling, lifting ourselves up onto ledges, until we take a brief, very cramped lunch break of sponsor-sent jerky. We don't talk much along the way, but I've learned that sometimes, that's better.

After what has to be another hour of climbing, we reach an opening. Elias stops, pulling out the bombs. Probably just in case another tribute is there, or a worse threat. He lights and throws, and we hear an explosion.

He exits first into the smoke, me second. We scale the walls, but it doesn't take long for the smoke of the small bomb to clear.

The first thing I notice is a destroyed pedestal, silver shards littering the floor.

The second is a tribute coming at me full force.

~.~.

-Torque's POV-

After hours and hours of crawling, I'm exhausted. When the adrenaline wore off, I wanted to collapse, but we just kept on going.

The room we'd found was pleasant, though.

There's a noticeable breeze from outside coming in, I could feel it as soon as we surfaced. There's indeed a window in the wall, through which the sun shines, bright and warm on our faces. So we had been crawling in there all night. I had a suspicion.

In the middle of the room sits a little object that shines in the sunlight. Upon closer inspection, we find that it's shaped like a little monkey. He's definitely a fat little thing. He looks pretty smug, up there on his pedestal. I guess I'd be pretty proud to be a big fat gluttonous monkey made of silver too.

"Relatable," Static says, a grin on her face. She has dark bags under her eyes.

"Maybe you should sleep fam," I say. "I'll take watch."

She yawns. "It's alright. I've pulled all-nighters before with my friends, Current and Faraday. You look really bad though, _fam_."

"Only I say fam," I pout. "Besides, I've pulled all-nighters before too. All-nighters at the hospital, with my sister. And I've had to work the next day. Go on, fam, get some rest. I'll be around.

Static yawned but eventually curled up, resting her head in my lap. "Fine," she says, yawning. "But wake me up if that monkey's hourly banana delivery comes around."

I puff out air resembling a laugh as sleep takes my ally quickly.

I stay awake, looking around the room. I wonder if this room has seen tributes yet or not. A glance to the floor across the room shows a dark brownish red stain that can only mean that someone inhabited this room before being slaughtered. I have to wonder who it was. At this point, I would win just for the knowledge of what exactly happened here in the rooms we weren't in. Some of it, like the cannon we heard last night, is pretty easy to predict. Some, like whatever took Wyatt, are mysteries that I'd have to win to solve.

That is, unless I'd get the chance to ask him in the afterlife. Then again, I'd bet it's very bad angel etiquette to just ask someone how they died. Somehow I would guess that's a big nono.

We sit like that for a while, the sunlight never too bright to wake sleeping beauty. Suddenly, though, something shatters the silence. I hear movement. I hadn't noticed the tunnel on the other side of the room, not until it was too late.

Something enters the room. I don't realize what it is until I'd already awakened Static and it's too late.

The blast of the bomb throws us both backwards. I hit the wall, but I hear Static yelp as she'd been hit by some of the statue shards. The guilty tributes were already on their way out, but I wasn't going to let them get away so easily.

My heart pounds as I pick up the first big thing I can wrap my hand around and charge. The bomb-thrower, none other than Elias from District 11, yells something, and his ally, Trekker from Eight, yells back, "I'm right behind you!" the second before I throw him to the ground. Surely Elias won't throw another bomb if his ally's still there.

But he will if he really thinks Trekker's behind us. Another bomb is lit and thrown in. It explodes almost as soon as it hits the ground, throwing Static. My District partner screams as Trekker swings his fist up and clocks me on the jaw. I realize suddenly that I'm in a dire situation. I take the rock and bring it down on Trekker's forehead, feeling it crack under me. Blood pours out of the wound, but I don't stop. He fumbles, still kicking, as I prepare to do it again.

Stupid Torque. The second's hesitation allows him to get the knife out of the sheath it was in, and Trekker is swinging it wildly. I have to knock him out. I bring the rock down again, harder, and feel the impact again. My hands are slick with warm, sticky blood. Trekker's still fighting, so I do it again and again, until his cries get weaker and eventually fizzle out.

Just then, I hear a cannon. I jump off of the Eight boy, searching wildly for my ally. I find her lying on the ground, blood streaming out of her nose and burn marks on her shoulder and torso. She isn't moving.

"Static," I say, trying to stay calm and kneeling next to her. "Fam, please…" She's still. I take her by the shoulders and shake her. "Come on fam. Time to get up now."

It's hopeless.

That is, until she groans, eyes flickering open.

Relief washes over me. The cannon wasn't for her after all. That relief is soon replaced by a cold, dark feeling deep in my stomach. If that cannon wasn't hers, it must have been for…

Oh God.

I've killed someone.

I only meant to knock him out, but I've killed him. My heart pounds and I start to panic again.

"Fam, can you crawl? We have to get out of here, stat." She blinks, dazed, but when I nudge her towards the tunnel she starts to crawl. I follow her quickly into the darkness.

It's not long before I hear Elias's panicked voice echoing through the tunnel. I nudge Static to move faster, faster, until we can't hear them anymore.

Static stops when she gets tired with a small moan of pain. "Shit," she says. I can't see her as we'd not taken the torch when we fled.

I can barely think straight. In the darkness, all I see is Trekker's bloody face, all I hear are Elias's panicked pleas for him to get up.

"I've killed someone."

"Torque?"

"Oh God."

"It's okay. You had to."

No, she's wrong. I didn't have to. I could have just knocked him out.

"Oh God." His blood is still on my hands. It's still there. I feel it every time I move. Crawling up my arms, wrapping around my shoulders, squeezing at my neck.

"Torque?"

"Oh God oh God oh God…" It's all I can make myself say. "I've killed someone." I gasp for air, I feel like I'm choking, oh God…

"Torque, stay with me! Fam!"

For the first time in sixteen years, tears poke at the corners of my eyes. One single sob escapes me before I feel hands on my shoulders.

"Hey, get it together! What's your name?" It's dark, but I can feel her eyes boring into me. It causes physical pain, but I swallow the tears.

"Torque. Nawrocki."

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen." I hate how my voice wobbles. I hate the feeling that I'm going to break. I haven't been this close in years. I focused fully on Static, trying to think past the life I took, the family that's mourning, oh God I've killed so-

"Where do you live?"

"Oh God, I've ki-"

"Tell me where you live. Where do you live?"

I swallow hard and sniffle. "District Five."

"Where?"

I take a quivering breath, but when I speak it's slightly more steady. "District Five."

"That's right. That's your home."

"Home," I repeat, breathing deeply.

"Count to five with me, ready?" When she counted, I counted with her. Somehow it helped. After that she had me breathe with her, in and out, slow, deep breaths. Focusing on her was all I could make myself do, anything to avoid the memories. Oh God…

"What are your sisters' names?" she asked. "All three, what are they?"

I swallow again. "Fiona. Kyria. Ree."

"Where are they?"

"They're in District Five. Home."

"That's right. They're by themselves right now, aren't they?"

"Yes." I remember why I'm here, and what I'm waiting for. Static is right, I can't lose it now.

"You know why I'm asking you these questions."

"Yes. Thanks for that, fam." The panic that had been destroying me numbed in half a second. I'm fighting to get home to my sisters. I have to get back there or else Ree is going to die, or else my family is going to suffer more than they can handle. This isn't a game, this is of the utmost importance.

It was either me or him, that was going to die. It had to be him.

The Victor is going to be either me or Beo, me or a Career, me or them. It has to be me.

No matter what Victory entails, I have to do it.

I will do whatever it takes to get home.

Even if it means cracking their heads open one by one.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Another chapter! A long one! I wasn't sure I was gonna do it, but I did.**_

 _ **RIP Trekker. You're extremely important to me because in the end, I relate to you more than I do any of these tributes. It was just your time. You were doomed from the start, just because Zayne was your nephew and his story was written first. If it wasn't, though, I promise you that you would have had a serious shot for Victor, because you are the guy to beat in terms of easiness to write and character arc. I wish I could have developed it fully, and I'm sure this isn't the last I'm going to write with you. Rest well, old buddy. I'm really sad to see you go and will miss you dearly.**_

 _ **Two more and we'll be down to eight! That also means that sponsor prices will be increased, so if you want to sponsor now's as good a time as any!**_

 _ **I think that's all I have to say for now. Thanks for the support!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Have any Victor picks yet? If so, why?**_

 _ **Shit, I have to do scores -_-**_

 _ **Scores:**_

 _ **aceswims: 30**_

 _ **AKLNxStories: 75**_

 _ **Alecxias: 2**_

 _ **AmericanPi: 216**_

 _ **Apollo's Slytherpuff Daughter: 113**_

 _ **Becksheart: 4**_

 _ **bLizzieard: 50**_

 _ **bobothebear: 14**_

 _ **calebbeers21: 6**_

 _ **Cass: 154**_

 _ **Cloe: 270**_

 _ **Coolgal02: 61**_

 _ **CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean: 110**_

 _ **DaughterOfTigris: 135**_

 _ **david12341: 195**_

 _ **deathless. smile: 15**_

 _ **District7axemurder: 15**_

 _ **Dreamer: 1050**_

 _ **dreams and desperation: 120**_

 _ **Emrys Holmes: 98**_

 _ **TheEngineeringGames: 225**_

 _ **epictomguy: 24**_

 _ **XxXFangirlonlineXxX: 32**_

 _ **Feniks16: 10**_

 _ **Fire'sCatching (is this someone that submitted?): 5**_

 _ **GalacticCoach: 39**_

 _ **Golden Moon Huntress: 174**_

 _ **goldie031: 154**_

 _ **hopefuldreamer1991: 327**_

 _ **Jess: 718**_

 _ **Jeptwin: 2**_

 _ **judmud: 4**_

 _ **Kate: 823**_

 _ **0KiCat0: 145**_

 _ **Lady Lysa Arryn: 127**_

 _ **Legend: 654**_

 _ **Littlefoot876: 10**_

 _ **Little Knight Mik: 80**_

 _ **Master Maedhros: 10**_

 _ **MissVolturiKingsfan: 10**_

 _ **Mystical Pine Forest: 30**_

 _ **Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg: 4**_

 _ **OncerTillTheEnd: 4**_

 _ **xxPeppermintxx109: 159**_

 _ **Platrium: 174**_

 _ **Programming: 7**_

 _ **TheReaper94: 2**_

 _ **rosecatforever: 185**_

 _ **Rosemarie Benson: 12**_

 _ **ShunKazamis-Girl: 26**_

 _ **Silverdust64: 10**_

 _ **Singlewave: 15**_

 _ **stop-pulling-on-mariazell: 30**_

 _ **Sparky She-Demon: 14**_

 _ **tracelyn: 45**_

 _ **TyeTheLurker (Guest): 65**_

 _ **VeneratedArt: 105**_

 _ **the victor of panem: 71**_

 _ **We're All Okay: 71**_

 _ **W. R. Winters: 316**_

 _ **Xechaste: 4**_

 _ **youngpatriot: 44**_

 _ **See ya later!**_


	23. So Be It

_The seventh night_

-Tempest's POV-

We're already down to ten.

I have no clue how it happened so fast, but I'm equal parts excited and disappointed. After all, I'm so close to getting home, but at the same time we haven't exactly seen a lot of action. The closest thing I've gotten to action was at the bloodbath on the first day. Seems so far away now.

I mean, I'm not going to complain that something or someone took out some of the powerhouses like Sequoia and Trekker, even Winchester, before they could threaten my chance at victory, but… I dunno. I feel like I'm not getting the full experience, almost.

Then again, though, I'm far from the first place pedestal. There are plenty of other tributes left to fight. There are still plenty of obstacles to my Victory left for me to overcome.

Hartwin has proven to be a dangerous threat willing to risk it all. What he did, if he really did it (I think he did, but some of our alliance members still haven't been fully convinced), was extremely stupid, but ballsy. A risk that paid off. It's a miracle he got away. If only Whimsy had said something.

Besides, someone or something besides us has been killing actively.

It doesn't take a genius to guess the probably reason for Sondra's drawn-out screams, and it doesn't take one to guess what made the boy from Six break the same way.

Beo. He's out there somewhere, and though I know nothing about how he's killing, I can guess that it's not pretty. I wouldn't wish him on anybody.

But, if that's what it takes for me to get home victorious… So be it.

Still, the thought of Ezie being tortured is hard for me to bear.

 _Focus, Tempest,_ I scold myself. _Keep your head in the game. If he has to die so that you live, so be it. So be it._

As for the pair from Five, they don't worry me too much. Static is determined, but young and physically weak.

Torque is a wildcard. They have a lot of reasons to get home: big reasons: and through everything that's happened before the Games, from being reaped to chariots to training and interviews, they haven't cracked once. It's abundantly clear that they can handle immense amounts of pressure without giving in. The pain of working for a dying sister is… Unimaginable. They certainly have emotions of steel.

Desperation will make them hungry, just like the rest of us. I can only hope that a lack of supplies from the Cornucopia could have fucked them over.

Then, there's Elias. Yeah, that's right. He was young and from Eleven, so I must have let him slip under my radar somehow. I remember that he's got Games in his blood… Somehow.

He's obviously got a reason for making it as far as he has, whether from hiding or being witty or… His allies. Trekker and Sequoia, if I remember correctly. I wonder if they carried him through, maybe if one or both died in his place or something. I'm still not sure. I'll just have to wait and see what he's like when we cross him. Now's certainly not the time to underestimate anybody.

Besides them, the only people left are surrounding me. It's exactly half and half, Careers and outers.

Whimsy hasn't been the same since Alma died. She's been in one hell of a funk, to put it nicely. I've kept my distance from her since it happened. Now is not the time or place for compassion. Bellona has done the same. We check in every once in a while to be sure she's physically alright, and then just leave her be.

Whimsy's now-weakened state makes herless of a threat, at least.

Bellona is the one to watch for. She wants that gold. She won't hesitate to cut me down on the way, if that's what it comes to. She's kept all of us at a healthy distance. She really, really wants to win. She won't hesitate to put a sword through any of our backs. She seems honest, but the truth is that I can't be sure. I'll have to keep an eye on her. Her aura was never particularly alarming, which led me to trust her, but I have to be observant in all fields to be sure she's keeping her promise.

That leaves me with the boys.

Branden has distanced himself from the rest of the alliance, like Bellona. Well, everyone but me.

He's been buddy-buddy with me since we first volunteered. He's been asking me questions and adding personal anecdotes all week long. And, of course, his great old District loyalty mantra: "District Four will have a Victor this year for sure."

He and I are currently sitting awake on watch. I don't trust that everyone's really asleep as deep as they let on, but he seems to, because he leans over to whisper to me.

"We're at ten," he says.

I give a nervous glance to the others before providing him a silent nod in response.

"Two more and they'll be on their way to our home." I swallow hard, thinking about it.

"Nine and one of us is on the way home," I say quietly, finally.

Branden smiles a bit at that. It's a nice thought, that's for sure. Being back home by the ocean, back to causing trouble with Lee, sailing out with the guys and having ice cream like the good old days, but this time on a ship that I can drive myself, without any of Tiller's snobs having to take us out. He glances behind his shoulder at the others, three sleeping forms that make no noise nor stir in the night.

"We could make this go faster you know," he says finally, in a whisper so quiet I could only decipher it from reading his lips.

I bite my lip. It's not like I haven't considered this before. No, we can't do it like this. "That's playing dirty and you know it," I tell him, crossing my arms.

"Sometimes you have to cheat to win."

I bite my lip, glancing at them and imagining all the ways this could go wrong. "Bad idea. If they wake up-"

"We both kill one at the same time, there's one versus two. We wouldn't lose without a fight, and we certainly wouldn't lose with the advantage of numbers." I glance back at him and he keeps talking, ever-so quietly. "Whimsy without Alma is dead weight. We haven't done anything because this group is too big. You and I team up, we end the Games in a day, two at most. You and I are birds of a feather. We're alike, we get each other. We'd be unstoppable together without those others telling us what to do. Take out these guys now and Caesar's asking Lee how proud he is of his big sister. That's your brother's name, right?"

I nod slowly. "Yeah, he's Lee." So many thoughts fly around in my head at once. I bite my lip. This is certainly a tempting thought. After all, our biggest competition is vulnerable in front of us, right here.

"District Four is going to have a Victor this year, right?"

I swallow hard, slowly taking my sword. "Right."

He winks at me as he gives a small grin. "Excellent. I knew you'd come around." The off-putting red of his aura suddenly becomes prevalent again. As we had talked, it faded, as it usually does when I get to know people better, but now it's back, just as nervous as ever.

I start to wonder if I should trust him. If he's willing to backstab these guys now, how would I know when he's going to backstab me?

"We'll take out the Two tributes first. Whimsy will be so shocked she won't fight back if we're quick enough." He crosses the group to the still-asleep Bellona, who doesn't stir.

My heart drops to my stomach.

"Problem?" he asks.

I know, by his aura, by the look in his eyes, he knows what he's doing.

"Nothing," I say quietly. "I just thought that after all the, ahem, _friendly_ competition between you two, you'd like to have the final word."

His eyes glint as his smile widens. "No, this is much more satisfying. I figured you'd want revenge for all the times he had you whipped."

My head snaps up and my eyes narrow at the comment, and even more so at the stupid smug smirk on his face. "What is that supposed to mean? I was not whipped."

He shrugs. "For someone who is all about female empowerment, you've certainly followed him quiet a lot."

I freeze. Has Ezie really been manipulating me this whole time? I guess I was more inclined to agree with him… Could it be because of his aura that I let my guard down?

My synesthesia has never been wrong before, but..

"No. I just listened to his input and weighed it against everyone else's. I champion equality."

That has to be it… Right?

"Manipulation is still manipulation, even if it's done with a gentle smile." I glance down at the sleeping boy, who lays perfectly still, probably not having a clue he's in any kind of danger. Branden's whispered words snap me out of the thought. "Now that he's got you, he's started working on Whimsy too. Soon she'll be his bitch just like she was Alma's."

The statement is a shock and it must show on my face because his smile becomes more smirkish, which I didn't think was possible at this point.

"Oh, don't tell me you thought either One tribute would be useful without the other. That was blatant from the very beginning. Aren't you the self-proclaimed queen of reading people?"

I bite my lip again, this time harder. Part of me is sure that he's right. The other hates him for talking so horribly about our… Allies. Er, I guess, ex-allies.

 _Snap out of it, Tempest. He's right. I can't jump to the defense of these people. I can't afford it._

"We don't have any more time for banter. That'll just get us discovered. Don't let him be the reason you lose your shot."

I glance at the sleeping boy again and feel a catch in my throat. Have I been played this whole time? Has he been leading me on for nothing, all this time? I look up at Branden's aura. Fiery, bright, red, unsettling.

Ezie. Sunrise. Gentle and soft.

He has to die for me to win.

I have to make a choice. Do I really believe Ezie's been lying to me? Or is Branden the liar?

"Don't tell me you can't kill him."

I look up at him, my chest pounding with anger. Surely he's loving this.

"Come on. Prove you're a Victor that will never be played by a man." I glance down at Ezie. I look up when Branden steps forward, trident raised. "Last chance. Unless you… Can't?"

I swallow hard. "I can. I can kill him."

My hands shake and I take a deep breath. I can play dirty. I can cheat against someone I trust. Anything to win. So be it.

Suddenly, the figure on the floor rises in a blink, shoving a katana through Branden's chest.

I realize I've made a grave mistake.

Branden's body hits the ground with a loud thud. I put up my sword as Ezie's eyes land on me. I should have picked earlier. I should have shut Branden down, I should have done something…

Ezie doesn't look like he's going to fight. Instead, he gives a glance to Branden's dead body before his shoulders go up and down in a lazy shrug.

"Sorry if I'm not inclined to believe you."

The statement throws me off. I don't drop my weapon. I only want to use it for defense, but I'm not taking any chances. I'm still not sure who was lying, if anyone, and who is playing me, if anyone. I'm confused and seeing Branden's dead body makes my body shake with adrenaline, ready at any moment to attack, anything to stay alive.

What the hell is he talking about? I have no idea what he means, maybe-

"What the actual hell?" Bellona's gaze lands on us as she sits up, and I realize I have no idea what to say to her. I don't have any time to think about it, though, because as soon as she speaks Ezie grabs my arm and a backpack.

"Time to split. You coming or what?" I barely have time to grab a pack before we're running away from there as fast as we possibly can. We're far away before Whimsy even wakes up.

We run through the dark woods silently. I can't make myself speak, I have too much adrenaline pumping through my veins and too much shock to form coherent words. He seems to know exactly where he wants to go, and all I can do is follow.

Thoughts race through my head as we go. _Why is he taking me with him? Am I his prisoner now? How can I get away if I'm a prisoner? What the hell does 'Sorry if I'm not inclined to believe you' mean!? Is he going to kill me? Did I choose incorrectly?_

He takes me to the pond, after what feels like forever running through the Dark Woods. We've lost them, I think, but to be sure we duck behind a pile of rocks that's sitting by the water. My chest burns and my heart pounds in my chest. I have no idea where to go as a cannon for Branden booms loud and clear.

"You… Good?" he pants. There are no signs of ulterior motives in his luminescent eyes or his soft, persistent aura.

"What?" He must be crazy. I was standing above him with a sword and he still wants to be my ally?

"Branden was a bad influence on you."

I blink, totally stunned and confused as to why he'd pull this and not just kill me like I would have done to him in the same situation. If Ezie cared about his life at all he would have just killed me instead of pulling this shit. Maybe he's right and I couldn't have killed him even if I wanted to, but he doesn't know that for sure. And he never will. But still, this doesn't make sense to me at all. He must have a loose screw or something. Seeing as I can't speak, he continues.

"You're not the type to play dirty. I knew you wouldn't kill me on a dirty trick. You've always earned your victories, haven't you Tempest?"

Shit, I didn't know we were having real talk. I just nod, not sure exactly what to say in this weird situation.

"Like a true punk," he adds, a teasing smile spreading across his face.

I pout a bit, feeling more like myself now that I know I've made a good choice. Maybe not the most strategic or logical one, but the right one.

"When the time comes, though, you have to give me a fair fight," I say. "Promise me." He gives a smile that doesn't fully reach his eyes. "Of course, punk. But only if you do the same for me." I nod and reach out my hand, which he takes and squeezes. "Then I promise."

"Good. I promise too."

"Then it's settled. Fair fight, when the time is right. I think it's time that you hit the sack. I'll stay up on watch."

I glance over at him. "Are you sure?" I'm dead tired, so I don't have to ask again after he nods.

Maybe I should be wary, but I figure that if he wanted to kill me tonight, he would have done it already. I lay down and close my eyes.

I trust him, and he trusts me. I don't feel worried having him as my ally. In fact, I feel more secure than I did when there were six of us.

Still, though, I'm kicking myself.

After everything that happened tonight, I still had to be saved by a man.

I should have just killed Branden right then and there. It would have been awesome. After he said that thing about proving I'm a Victor that wouldn't be controlled by a man, I should have said, "Okay," and then stabbed him like a badass. Even if I didn't get the cool comeback, I still should have done something. I was blinded by indecision, and almost paid the price before my ass was saved by someone else.

I can't let myself be weak anymore. I came here to prove that I'm strong, and I have to keep being strong, dammit! Have I really been a figurehead, a puppet manipulated by everyone else?! Was my version of democracy their method of control!? The line is blurry to me, which scares the hell out of me.

No, I can't be scared. The thought that I've never had a real voice is unbearable, but surely I've shown my strength, proven my worth, surely I've made women proud, right?

I'm not sure.

 _Stop it Tempest_ , I scold myself. _Doubting yourself is only going to hurt you._

But what if I need to be doubted? I wish I could view me from the outside, surely it's obvious to them whether or not I'm just a talking baby doll or a real leader. Branden's words scare me. They've certainly found their way into my head.

 _He found your biggest weakness, he was just preying on something you're sensitive to_ , I try to rationalize, as I roll over. _He didn't mean it._

I shake the thoughts away. They're too stressful, and I really do need to get some sleep so I can be the best me possible tomorrow, just in case.

The real point is that I showed weakness today, and I hate myself for that. I vow to buck up. From now on, I won't need saved from anyone or anything. I won't be a figurehead, if I even was one to begin with. I have to prove myself and earn my title. I have to make my mother and her sisters proud of me. I have to show the world that girls can be strong and feisty, and whatever the hell they want to be. I have to prove that I have what it takes to win.

After all, District Four is going to have a Victor this year… Right?

~.~.

-Torque's POV-

How could I have been so stupid? How could I have made such a close friend in a fight to the goddamn death? Why didn't I stop this before it started?

Of all places to be guarded, this is the one in which it's the most necessary.

It's a fight for survival, for Christ's sake.

Now it's too late.

You can't just… Un-love someone. You can try and try, but you can't snap your fingers and just… Forget.

Hindsight is 20/20, I suppose. Now I'm really kicking myself.

That moment I thought she was dead… I was… Crumpling. I was breaking. And I can't fucking afford to break. Not here.

I've made a grave mistake, and nothing I can do can just reverse it in a blink. As much as I wish it could. God, I wish it could. God, I hate myself.

My heart's surely been broken before. Between Ree and identity struggles, bullying and pain, sickness and poverty, it's happened. But nothing could prepare me, nothing can prepare anyone for the feeling of knowing that you are a killer. Nothing can prepare anyone for the pain of death.

Static's still kicking and I've already gotten a taste of it.

God, I hate myself. I fucking hate my stupid ass. I can't believe I did it, goddammit Torque! It's a feeling I can't even put into words.

There were so many times I could have just left. So many times I should have. So many times I should have left those boundaries up, and like a fucking idiot I just let them down, just like that, without as much as a fucking fight!

Part of me always knew that it was wrong. But there was that other part, the compassion, the kindness, that overruled all common sense.

At the time, it was fine. Of course it was. I didn't consider what would happen at the time. Why would I, right? It's not like I actually cared about getting home, right? It's not like I knew better, right? It's not like I wasn't warned by everyone I've ever talked to that I was playing with fire, right? God, I hate myself. What a big, stupid fucking mistake.

Now I have another person that's depending on me, and worse, if that wasn't fucking enough to add to the pressure, a person on whom I depend.

I was so, so fucking stupid. I had no idea what I was doing. I pretended that I had boundaries, but I was fooling myself. I continually broke them. They didn't mean anything. They were just words. Ultimately, once the mentors respected my decision to pursue my District partner as an ally and a friend, nobody was there to hold me responsible for them. My useless ass certainly didn't do a single stupid damn thing to hold myself responsible.

God, I wish I had. I wish I'd been smart and stopped it all before it got to this. I wish I'd used my stupid goddamn _brain_ before it got to this. But no, of course not. That would have actually made goddamn _sense_.

Now I'm here.

I want to protect someone else in an Arena where I have to kill to survive.

I was fucking weak, fucking stupid, and now I'm on the brink of breaking because of it. God, if only past Torque had any idea how they would fuck themself over. I did it to my own fucking self, it's all my own goddamn stupid fault.

Just because I said I had boundaries didn't mean jack shit. I was fooling myself. They were always just words. Now I'm paying the goddamn price for it. Now, my sisters, my parents, could pay the price for my goddamn _stupid_ fuckups.

I thought I was doing what was best, but now I can see that they were nothing but hopeless lies I told myself to cope with the fear. We latched onto each other in the worst of times, and now we're both dependent on each other in a place where we just can't afford it. I could have saved myself so much fucking pain if I had just had a brain in this fucking mess! I hate myself, God I hate myself. If I had any idea where I'd end up, maybe then I'd have taken a fucking step back. They're all depending on me and I could lose it all because of this stupid fucking fuckup that I could have avoided in the first place! God, I hate myself.

I just told myself that even when the worst happened (which I severely underestimated, God I'm a fucking _idiot_ ), the good times would be worth it. That was, like most of the stupid dumbass things I told myself after being reaped, another goddamn lie.

I wish we had never spoken. I wish I had never told her anything about my sisters, my friends, my home. I wish we had never fucking met. Everything hurts, every memory that could have been happy is black and white, dark and dreary.

I should have ended things before they started. God, I hate myself. I'm such a fucking idiot.

We're nothing more than friends, but sometimes losing a friend is more painful than losing a love. Especially in a situation like this, that neither of you asked for. God, I wish we'd never met. I fucking hate myself.

Static's become important to me. Too important. I wish it hadn't taken so long for my dense ass to figure that out. I wish it hadn't taken blood on my hands to figure out. I wish I hadn't let my guard down.

But it's too fucking late.

I can't un-love her. As much as I want to, as much as I try, I won't be able to go to the stupid fucking pond without remembering that time she made me smile there. I won't be able to eat chili without remembering how she stuffed her face with it after a long day of training together. Even though those thoughts hurt, I can't just stop having them at the drop of a hat. If only it were that easy.

It's getting down to the wire now, though. I'm getting closer and closer to making it home.

My family needs me. Without me, Ree's almost certainly going to die. My parents can't take that, my sisters don't deserve it. Sure, the others have friends and families, but they'll all live. Mine won't.

It's gotten to a point where I can't be with Static anymore. I have to focus on victory now, and there can only be one. I can't let myself crack anymore than I already have.

Leaving will hurt, and it's not exactly something I want to do, but I have to. I can't let either of us be hurt anymore, and ultimately, staying with the knowledge that only one can win at this point is only going to hurt both of us.

She's sleeping soundly when I stand up. I consider waking her up, but I can't. I'm too afraid to.

I know that I can't risk her convincing me to stay anymore. She isn't aware she's doing it, but that doesn't change the fact that only one can win. I can't stay, I have to go. We both know it.

Besides, I don't know I could take seeing the look on her face when she realizes I'm going. Yeah, I'm a fucking cowards, add it to the ever-growing list of Torque's shitty characteristics.

I give one last brief look over my shoulder before I turn around again. I turn around quickly. I can't keep looking back. I have to stay focused on the path ahead. I have to keep this goddamn boundary strong. It's a matter of life or death now, for me and for my sister.

I leave without looking back.

It hurts just as much as I expected it to. I want to go back while I still have the chance.

I can't. I have to keep going. I have to be in total control of my own fate from here on out. I wander out of the shrine, wandering out into the great pit with nothing but my pride and a bloody rock.

The pit is humongous. There are so many directions to go and I spend some time deciding where to go. Finally I decide to cross the way. There's a rope bridge, much like the one that lead to the shrine, that I decide to cross. It sways under my weight, but other than that seems fairly sturdy. Once I'm sure I want to trust it, I cross the bridge into an expansive, dark room.

Halfway across the bridge, I hear a cannon boom.

Immediately my heart jumps with panic.

 _Is she okay?! Static… I shouldn't have left, I should have wakened her, God I hate myself, Static…_

I freeze on the bridge, stopping myself from running back the way I'd come. I swallow the panic, and kick myself angrily. I can't afford to keep being worried about her like this if I want to live.

I need to forget, let go, do anything to get her out of my thoughts, stop my heart from pounding so hard and so rapidly.

I know that I can't control it, though. I can't just un-love someone so quickly.

That doesn't stop me from feeling frustrated as all hell. God, I hate myself. I hate myself so fucking much.

This is all my fault. I'm paying the price for letting my guard down and there's nothing I can do about it. I brought all of it on myself likea fucking dumbass, God, I hate myself!

I keep walking, trying to focus on my sisters, my home, anything but my nervous, pounding heart.

The room the bridge leads to is expansive and open. It's totally empty and uninhabited, all except for the center. In the center of the room is a long stone structure, engraved and painted quite intricately.

A tomb.

I wonder if there's anything in it, but don't have the guts to check right now. In fact, I'm pretty doggone tired at this point.

I don't want to do anything but lay down and maybe do some crying, though. Hopefully sleeping will help. I hate how sick I feel at the thought Static died because of me. I can't afford to think like that, but I can't make it stop. I try to distract myself but it doesn't go very well.

 _How could I have left her sleeping? Why did I do this? This is all my own fucking fault, I hate myself!_

I grit my teeth and ball my fists to keep from breaking, which just makes me more angry that I can't hold it together now, when it really fucking matters.

What do you do when you hit rock bottom?

You climb.

You climb, not caring who falls.

You climb until you get home to your family, the people that need you.

You don't stop till you win, till you reach the top and your feet are on the ground and you're standing.

I won't stop for anything or anyone. I can't afford to. I'll keep climbing until my feet are on the ground. No matter what.

I have one last thought before a dreamless sleep washes over me.

 _So be it._

~.~.

 _ **R.I.P. Branden. He had a great strategy, if only it hadn't been thrown by an extremely knowledgeable Two boy. He was a lot of fun to write, once I finally separate his name from Brendan's. XD Lol. I don't know if you're still reading this one, but if you are, thanks for him Cloe! His words will definitely stick with Tempest.**_

 _ **So, we're down to nine, and my big plans for this story have begun to unfold! I almost pitched the next plotline, which will be expanded on next chapter, but I decided that I'm not going to throw it after all, instead just making it happen earlier than expected. Boom!**_

 _ **Hope, Elias received your gifts on the seventh day, so he has them now :) Nothing happened of note on the seventh day and I figured the night POVs would be better to show than tributes just chilling.**_

 _ **Also, like 36 the submitted tributes that survive until the final 8 will get POVs, so we'll be able to see them one way or another, even as alliances begin to split and such.**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Eh… This is so sad. Let's have a cute headcanon with these OCs. Any from this story will do dead or living :)**_

 _ **Scores:**_

 _ **aceswims: 30**_

 _ **AKLNxStories: 75**_

 _ **Alecxias: 2**_

 _ **AllHailTheNerdiness (0KiCat0 I am pretty sure): 155**_

 _ **AmericanPi: 216**_

 _ **Apollo's Slytherpuff Daughter: 113**_

 _ **Becksheart: 4**_

 _ **bLizzieard: 50**_

 _ **bobothebear: 14**_

 _ **calebbeers21: 6**_

 _ **Cass: 154**_

 _ **Cloe: 270**_

 _ **Coolgal02: 61**_

 _ **CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean: 110**_

 _ **DaughterOfTigris: 135**_

 _ **david12341: 205**_

 _ **deathless. smile: 15**_

 _ **District7axemurder: 15**_

 _ **Dreamer: 1150**_

 _ **dreams and desperation: 120**_

 _ **Emrys Holmes: 98**_

 _ **TheEngineeringGames: 225**_

 _ **epictomguy: 24**_

 _ **XxXFangirlonlineXxX: 32**_

 _ **Feniks16: 10**_

 _ **Fire'sCatching: 5**_

 _ **GalacticCoach: 39**_

 _ **Golden Moon Huntress: 174**_

 _ **goldie031: 154**_

 _ **hopefuldreamer1991: 164 (The rope wasn't on the sponsor list but I priced it at 65.)**_

 _ **Jess: 718**_

 _ **Jeptwin: 2**_

 _ **judmud: 4**_

 _ **Kate: 823**_

 _ **Lady Lysa Arryn: 127**_

 _ **Legend: 654**_

 _ **Littlefoot876: 10**_

 _ **Little Knight Mik: 150**_

 _ **Master Maedhros: 10**_

 _ **MissVolturiKingsfan: 10**_

 _ **Mystical Pine Forest: 30**_

 _ **Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg: 4**_

 _ **OncerTillTheEnd: 4**_

 _ **xxPeppermintxx109: 159**_

 _ **Platrium: 194**_

 _ **Programming: 7**_

 _ **TheReaper94: 2**_

 _ **rosecatforever: 185**_

 _ **Rosemarie Benson: 12**_

 _ **ShunKazamis-Girl: 26**_

 _ **Silverdust64: 10**_

 _ **Singlewave: 15**_

 _ **stop-pulling-on-mariazell: 30**_

 _ **Sparky She-Demon: 14**_

 _ **tracelyn: 45**_

 _ **TyeTheLurker (Guest): 65**_

 _ **VeneratedArt: 105**_

 _ **the victor of panem: 71**_

 _ **We're All Okay: 71**_

 _ **W. R. Winters: 316**_

 _ **Xechaste: 4**_

 _ **youngpatriot: 44**_


	24. Lose It Together

_The seventh night_

* * *

-Beo's POV-

The creature in the cave sat and tapped its fingers.

The cave was dimly lit, and all the creature could see was the dark, slick curves as they moved, dancing up and down against the rough ground of stone. The only light in the room was the weak flickering of fire from a torch left by the sacrifice. There were stones scattered that felt like flint, but the creature wasn't sure if he wanted to light more fire. After all, what was the bloody use of a fire, anyways? Nobody was going to come to save him, after all. Handling the bloody fire can be Ralph's problem.

Eventually, though, the fire became so weak that the creature couldn't stand it. He needed light. He wanted to see the carvings he'd spent so much time on, and the darkness was so lonely. In the darkness, the only thing the creature in the cave could hear was his own breathing, and sometimes, if he listened close enough, the beast's low growls.

No matter how the creature kept himself entertained, there were always reminders that the beast was there. He wasn't going to leave until the creature in the cave appeased him. The projection on the wall revealed that another had been sacrificed, but that wouldn't be enough to appease the beast. Only when the beast was appeased would the creature in the cave get to go back home. Only when the beast was appeased could the creature remove the mask. Only when the beast was appeased could the creature be free.

After the projection faded, the creature in the cave used the dying fire to give life to others, from torches that had been hanging on the cave walls, until he could see his work in full.

Beo liked the light. Jack didn't like the light, but Beo liked the light. Jack liked the darkness of the forest, but Beo liked the light of the fire. He liked being able to see. The creature in the cave liked to be able to see, the creature in the cave liked the light. So the creature in the cave is Beo, then, not Jack, then, Beo, not Jack.

When he saw his writings in full, the creature smiled as he was very pleased.

Looking to the left wall, the creature had started a list of the sacrifices. The list was delicately carved by the creature, who was quite proud of it.

 _ **isA**_

 _ **ToMEr**_

 _ **AbiGAiL**_

 _ **LiNNEA**_

 _ **LINdsAy**_

 _ **AMy**_

 _ **ZoMbiE**_

 _ **robErt**_

 _ **WiNcHEstEr**_

 _ **SEquoiA**_

 _ **WyAtt**_

 _ **AlMA**_

 _ **TrEkkEr**_

The creature read the list a few times before it realized something was missing.

Beo hadn't carved one of the names. But the creature in the cave wasn't Beo. Beo didn't kill people. Beo didn't fight in the Hunger Games. No, no, it wasn't Beo, it wasn't Beo it was Jack. Jack, Jack not Beo. Jack killed people, Beo didn't kill people. The creature in the cave wasn't Beo. The creature in the cave took its knife and carved the name into the stone.

 _ **SiMoN**_

Beo would have been sorry. But the creature in the cave wasn't Beo. Beo didn't kill people. Beo was sorry Simon was dead. Beo didn't hurt anyone. It wasn't Beo, it was Jack. Jack wasn't sorry Simon was dead. The creature in the cave wasn't sorry. So the creature in the cave is Jack, then, not Beo, then, Jack, not Beo.

The creature in the cave stared at the name for a long time after he carved it. He didn't want to look away, as if looking away would make the name disappear, as if looking away would cause the memory of Simon to fade away forever out of existence.

It wasn't until a cannon boomed that the creature looked away from his work. Another sacrifice was taken by the beast. The creature in the cave would find out who it was the next night.

He couldn't be sorry Simon was dead. He had to appease the beast, and if that meant Simon had to die, that would have to be how it was. He would have to continue offering sacrifices until the beast was appeased if he wanted to get home.

Home… What was home again? In the darkness, surrounded by his mural, the creature in the cave couldn't piece together the picture of home. Ralph, the fair-haired boy, no, that wasn't what he looked like, was it? The creature in the cave didn't know. He couldn't remember.

What was home? This was home. The cave was the creature's home. He loved to be in the cave, he decorated it, he made it his home. This was the only home the creature could call to mind. He had no idea where that place in which he grew up was.

Even if he couldn't remember what home was, though, the creature in the cave preferred being alive very much to being dead, so he intended to stay that way so that he could remember. Armed with a sword and a knife and his mask, the creature was determined to get back.

The creature in the cave was holding on to life narrowly, and knew he wouldn't be able to hold on down here much longer. It had run out of water and food, and was sweating. Its lungs complained from inhaling smoke from the fires in the small, cramped, rough, humid space. He wanted to stay on the beast's good side, after all, and the only way to do that would be through making a sacrifice. Out of the fifteen sacrifices made so far, the creature in the cave had only made three. The only way to stay on the beast's good side would be to make more sacrifices, more, more, until there were no more to make. Then, the creature in the cave would go to the illusive, foggy, clouded-away place that he had once called _"home."_

Now wasn't the time to shy away. Now was the time to be active.

The creature in the cave felt heavily sleepy, yawning and stretching its arms before laying down on the ground, the rough, uneven ground that the creature called home. He would have to leave it the next morning, he knew that, but he was going to enjoy his last night there with a deep, dreamless sleep.

It knew that it would have to have courage in the coming days.

But _… The thing is- fear can't hurt you any more than a dream._

.

 _The eighth day_

The creature in the cave woke from its slumber and stretched out. It was the day. Today was the day that the creature in the cave would emerge and continue to appease the beast. Only eight more sacrifices were to be made. The creature tried to calculate how many he would need to make to have the majority of kills. The creature in the cave hated numbers. Beo hated numbers.

The creature in the cave collected his things. He took his backpack and its supplies, keeping his knife in one hand and his sword in the other. Sure, neither was sharpened on both ends, but that was a problem better solved at a later date.

After everything was collected, the creature in the cave picked up a torch, knowing it would need to see as it emerged. Now the creature was ready. He took one last look around, and his hands started to shake. The cave was safe. Nobody would come to hurt him. He was the king of his cave. The creature in the cave didn't like to surrender power.

Its stomach rumbled and ached, and the creature remembered why he needed to leave. He took one last look behind his shoulder before he entered the tunnel from which the sacrifice had come. It took some maneuvering and lifting himself up until the creature was wheezing from the humidity, but soon he emerged. The room he'd entered was dark, but when he raised the torch he saw that the room was full of masks. Their dark eyes followed his every movement. He saw masks of all different kinds, and was immediately interested. He tried to take a mask made of stone from the display, but it wouldn't move under his fingers. He was slightly disappointed, but that didn't last long. When he turned, he saw a boar's face, its dark eyes hollow, yet all-knowing.

Startled, the creature stumbled backwards. He couldn't look away from the mask, though, even though it scared him.

 _"Fancy thinking the beast is something you could hunt and kill! ...You knew, didn't you? I'm a part of you?"_

Finally, the creature in the cave thrust his sword out in fear. He knocked the mask out of the way, and struck it again and again until he could not recognize it anymore. Only then was he really satisfied. Breathing heavily, the creature started to feel dizzy. He found a sprig of a plant in the room, so he decided to stop for lunch. He munched on the leaves, relieved to have something in his stomach again. While he was there, he noticed a dripping of water from the ceiling. He didn't get much to drink, but it was enough to keep going.

He collected drips in his thermos, but the longer he sat, the more he could hear the whispers of the masks. The creature didn't like hearing those voices, they scared him. He had to leave.

The creature noticed a tunnel where he had destroyed the boar's head, which he quickly used to leave after putting the thermos back in his backpack. The tunnel was another uphill climb, but this one was easier because it was cooler and more ventilated, even though it was longer and took more time to climb.

The creature kept climbing. As he climbed, he thought about home.

Beo had a home. Beo's home was different than Jack's home. The creature's home was the cave, where he made his masks. Beo's home was… The creature couldn't remember where it was. Wait, it was District Nine. The creature remembered carving something about it into his mural. He had a home and it was called District Nine. That was all he could remember about it, though. Every time he tried to think about where he lived, he could only think of his cave.

The creature could see the end of the tunnel, and kept crawling. His legs and arms started to shake, and the muscle in his chest thumped and thumped and thumped. The creature stopped and took a deep breath of air. Truthfully, he was afraid of what he would find when he left. He didn't want to leave the security of his cave. From some past experiences, the creature in the cave had learned that being open and vulnerable only lead to defeat and sadness. He couldn't remember how he'd learned that, but he knew it was true.

The creature in the cave liked to remain secure. He preferred security to reality.

The creature in the cave just decided one day to stop caring. Yes, that's right.

 _And I've stopped giving a damn. It's the only way I'm going to find happiness in this damn District, after all._

The creature's arms shook at the memory of those words. It took one more second to regain its courage.

 _This is a hunter's job._

The creature from the cave emerged.

The room the tunnel had lead to was dark, but expansive. The walls had some kinds of engravings on them, but they were worn and withered and the creature couldn't quite make out what they were. The floor seemed more even than that of the cave, and the room was much cooler and better-ventilated. The creature walked, slowly, quietly, towards the artifact in the center of the room: a stone structure that was just big enough to hold a human body.

Stepping closer, the creature realized that it was a tomb that was in the center of the room.

Suddenly, a tremendous force hit the creature straight-on, sending him to the ground on his back. The creature cried out in surprise and pain, just barely dodging the strike of a rock in the hand of someone who didn't look nearly as pretty as they did before arriving here. The creature in the cave was afraid at first, but soon realized that this was only a good thing.

He was about to get his next sacrifice.

~.~.

-Torque's POV-

I slept like shit last night, but there's nothing I can do about it now. All I can do is try and gauge where the other tributes are and when I can get back to the pond. The last thing I want is to run into any Career. Even if the alliance is split, which I can only hope it is by the time I meet any of them, they're all much better-furnished than I am. All I have is a rock and sheer determination. Against a sword or a knife, though, I don't stand a chance unless I become some kind of miracle worker.

The only tribute I know that's worse-off than I am is my District partner. She has absolutely nothing except for her strategy, and now pulling that off is going to be harder because she doesn't have another person helping her. I took our only rock, too. Granted, there are plenty of rocks around. But I don't think she has the stomach to actually use one as a weapon.

Then again, I didn't think I did, either. And I was wrong about that.

 _Focus, Torque._ I know I need to stop thinking about her. I mean, I'll have to think about her so I don't let my guard down, but… Ah, this isn't good for me. I wish this didn't have to be so complicated.

No matter how I feel, though, I have to keep the mask of stone on. It's the only way I'm going to be able to survive. I was able to take it off once, but only because I had my ally there to bring me back down to earth. It almost fell off a couple times back there, but I can't afford for that to happen. As heavy as it is, as much as it aches to keep it up, that's what I have to do, just until I can get back home with the title. I've held it up for sixteen years, what's a couple more days? I'm so close to the final 8 I can almost taste it. From there I'll just stay low, maybe get a sponsor something, and steal the victory out of the Careers' hands. All I can hope is that Static dies before I see her again.

I munch on some berries I collected for breakfast. This room is huge, and I haven't had time to explore it all. Not that exploring would do me much good at this point. I found a torch and some flint, which I'm using to examine the tomb and the surrounding area. The lid to the tomb was too heavy for me to lift, but I figure that might be a good thing. I've seen tributes get in a bind from exploring these types of things. Who could forget that poor kid who was trapped in that big case? Another tribute was there, keeping them there intentionally, waiting patiently to slaughter them, or for them to suffocate slowly. Getting trapped in there would be certain death for me at this point, so I decide not to play with fire.

In the morning, I'm able to sneak out of the room, through the pit. The monkey-statue room isn't inhabited by Static anymore, which means she must be on the move. I'm not sure what she's going to try to do, but I can't linger on it too much. I go through the room and through the tunnel to the pond.

The pond is inhabited, I can hear the voices of two Careers in there. Ezekiel and Tempest are on the other side of the room, eating breakfast, totally focused on each other. To get to me they'd have to jump over the pile of rocks or run around it. I decide to risk it. I'm able to get the quickest drink of water in my life before I lock eyes with Ezekiel. He doesn't react very quickly, so I'm able to get one last swallow before I run as fast as I can away from there. I get to the pit before deciding that I'm not being chased, but the paranoia that I might be hunted by them causes me to book it back to the room with the tomb as fast as I possibly can. Once I'm back there, I take a seat against the tomb to catch my breath. My heart still pounds, but now I'm sure that I'm not being hunted, at least for now.

I wonder if the Arena's becoming more compact or I'm just learning my way around better, but it seems like my journeys are taking less time. Maybe it's just my imagination. After all, I have no real sense of time here anyways.

I'm left on my own for a while. In that time, I try to use the floor to sharpen the rock I've been using as a weapon. It doesn't do much, but it gives me some way to feel like I'm using my time productively, which is all I need.

Eventually, though, I hear what sounds like a voice, which causes me to look up. I can't see a source, though, and soon I decide it was just in my head. A little while later, though, I know that this isn't a joke. I hear the voice, it sounds to be getting closer. The words are mumbled and I can't pick up on them. I'm about to run when I see his silhouette, and know that if I move now, he's definitely going to see me.

There's only one of him and there's one of me. I crouch behind the tomb, looking for an opportunity to strike or run away.

"The room the tunnel had lead to was dark, but expansive," he says quietly, his voice just barely above a husky whisper. "The walls had some kinds of engravings on them, but they were worn and withered and the creature couldn't quite make out what they were."

My heart pounds in my chest. He must not know that I'm here. He might be totally oblivious. I could get out of this without having to confront him, if I can only find a time to run away. Beo continues to stalk forward, each step making my heart pound harder.

"The floor seemed more even than that of the cave, and the room was much cooler and better-ventilated," Beo says quietly, as if he were narrating a story. "The creature walked, slowly, quietly, towards the artifact in the center of the room: a stone structure that was just big enough to hold a human body."

His pace picks up just like that, and soon I realize that I don't have a choice to run away anymore. The only hope I have against him is the element of surprise. I prepare for him to come closer. The closer he gets, the stronger the stench is. The smell of rotting carcass grew stronger as I mentally prepared to strike. The stench is strong, which must mean he's got some nasty, untreated injuries that will handicap him in a fight.

"Stepping closer, the creature realized that it was a tomb that was in the center of the room," he says, stopping in front of the tomb.

Before he can do any more exploration, I spring out from behind the tomb, gathering every ounce of courage I have. If I kill him, I get all his supplies, which will bring me much, much closer to my little siblings and friends back home.

Soon, though, I realize I've made a mistake. The District Nine boy's face is caked in dark, slick blood, but he shows no signs of injury. My stomach turns and I have to take a second to wretch. If there had been any food in my stomach, I definitely would have vomited. The sight of a person covered in blood combined with the pungent smell of guts and gore, is too much for me.

I lower the rock down, hoping to strike his head and end this quickly, but I have no such luck.

"Suddenly, a tremendous force hit the creature straight-on, sending him to the ground on his back. The creature cried out in surprise and pain, just barely dodging the strike of a rock in the hand of someone who didn't look nearly as pretty as they did before arriving here," Beo says, louder this time, laughing a little bit as he started to struggle against me. I did my best to hold on, trying to strike again.

"The creature in the cave was afraid at first, but soon realized that this was only a good thing," Beo said, his eyes alight with fire that was just as sickening as the mask on his face. "He was about to get his next sacrifice." Suddenly, Beo uses all his strength to push me off of him, sending me flying backwards, hitting my back against the tomb. I groan but quickly get up, now trying to plan my escape. I get up and try to get out of there, but choke on my shirt when I'm yanked backwards.

 _Stupid Torque! Goddammit how could you be so stupid?!_ I want to scream at myself for once again managing to fuck up and get myself into trouble, but the last thing I need in a death match is my own self-hatred. Now I need to stay totally focused on a way out of this.

"You're not going anywhere," he said. I kicked, trying to aim for where it hurt, but before I knew ie he tackled me to the ground. He's a towering eighteen-year-old who was reaped with injuries that showed that he had been in a fight or two before. I had no idea how I was going to get myself out of this.

I struggle against him, but it's no use. All I'm doing is stalling my own bloody death. The stench of the blood makes me gag, and the sight of him pushes bile up my throat. I spit on him, but it doesn't do much to divert him.

 _Think Torque…_ I struggle desperately against him. _I'm going to die I'm going to die I might as well stop putting it off No Torque, you came too far to die now, think Torque, think what is he doing and how can you outsmart him come on Torque THINK!_

All I can think of is one idea, and it's basically suicide. It's my last hope, it's totally outrageous and reckless, but it's all I can think of.

He has his knife in hand and I know that it's now or never. I squeeze my eyes shut and yell.

"BEO! STOP!"

"That's what the other sacrifices said too, but you know what, I'm not Beo!" He buried the knife in my shoulder and dragged it down, causing me to bite back a scream from the agony.

My thoughts race as he runs his fingers across the wound, adding my blood to the mask of other tributes'. _I have to focus, I have to think of something…_ _Other sacrifices… Not Beo… The creature in the cave…_ I have to piece together this story: fast. I'm good at reading people, now's the time to use that skill, dammit Torque let's go I need time, I need time to figure it out! _It's impossible for me to get his human side out by calling him Beo, it didn't work for the others it isn't going to work for me…_

I change course, and fast. Maybe Plan A wouldn't work… Plan B is about twenty times as suicidal and stupid, but it's all I've got. He's about to strike my chest when I shout out again.

"JACK!"

That gets him to stop, the knife just inches above my heart, which is pounding out of my chest.

"Wh-What?"

"You don't want to kill me Jack." My hands shake and my heart pounds, but I keep the stone mask on. If it cracks even a little bit, I'm as good as dead right now.

"Oh, I don't, do I? And why not?"

I bite my lip, forcing myself to keep the stone mask on as I look up, making eye contact and biting my lip. "You think I'm pretty, don't you fam?"

"Fam… You-"

"I only say that to people that really interest me, _fam_." I can tell that I'm tempting him, even if I'm lying through my teeth. I can't let it show, I keep the stone mask on.

"Oh? Well, that's a shame because I have to go back home to Ralph. Whoever he is, but I have to get home, wherever that is." His expression changes back to the savage twinkle in his eye and he gets his knife again.

"Wait!"

"No! The Beast needs its sacrifice!"

"But wait, hear me out!"

 _Time time time time I need time I just need to stall I need time to think of something time time time focus Torque focus what was it…_ I strain my brain to remember that old book that smelled like mold with the pages yellow and worn, so old that it would crumple to dust if it was looked at the wrong way…

"Go on then!"

 _Time time time time what was that book shit what was it time time time beast conch island Jack time wait a minute YES I got it holy fucking shit I hope this works for Ree for Ree for Fiona and Kyria and Bev and Jost for my family-_

"What's Jack without Roger?"

Time freezes. It seems like forever that he holds my gaze, both of us staring at each other, both unwavering. My heart pounds out of my chest and I feel sweat roll down my face, but I don't let my expression crack.

"Roger… "

"I'll be your Roger," I say, putting in every effort to make it sound smooth and cool as a cucumber.

"Are you really up for that?" he asks. "I don't believe you."

"You know the only thing more satisfying than a sacrifice? Watching them break."

He stares at me for a long time, and I keep the confident gaze. I know there's no way I can force him off of me, so I'm going to have to wait until he gets off so I can get away. For now, this little game will suffice.

"You're soft-willed."

"I used to be. But being in this Arena changes us all. I know what will make these tributes break."

"You're faking. Tell me something about me. Prove your worth."

My mind races. _Time time time_ …

"Well, I noticed that you wrote words on yourself during training. And when you're nervous you… You put your fist on your chest. You have the name of someone important there."

He blinks at me for a minute before checking for himself, as if he doesn't even remember whether or not it's true. Finally, he lets go of his shirt, giving me a look. "How did you know that?"

I give him a small, flirty smirk. Anything to save my ass. "I'm a smart cookie."

"No kidding."

This is good. If he thinks I'm on his team, I'll be able to escape. Maybe he'll even give me a weapon, then taking him out would be really easy.

He starts to move, but doesn't get up off of me. Instead he takes his backpack, pulling out a small spool of rope. I have a feeling I'm not going to get away.

"I still don't trust that you won't run away. So I'm gonna make sure you're really loyal before letting you hold my weapons." Dammit. He's not so easily fooled. I should have expected this, but hey, I'm still breathing, which is the name of the game at this point.

"Alright." If I'm agreeable, it'll only help me to win his trust faster. He grabs my wrists, getting off of me so he can tie them behind my back. Then, for good measure, he ties my ankles too, causing me to curse internally. There really isn't going to be any way for me to get out of this except continue to play his game.

Smart terrible people are the worst kind of people. At least a dumb terrible person would give me some way to outsmart them. I still could have snuck away with my hands behind my back. Now the only way to get away would be by jumping, which is much noisier than walking and my balance is going to be messed up anyways. But no. I'm dealing with the very worst kind of person.

"There." He finally lets me go after my limbs are all tied up. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"No," I say cooperatively. "How are we going to go hunting with me tied up though?"

"We'll leave tomorrow morning," he says decidedly. "I'll untie your feet so you can walk. We'll stock up, hunt, and the first sacrifice we find, we'll break. You'll prove your loyalty, we'll get you a mask, I'll untie your hands and we'll be a team. Unless you crack."

I take a deep breath. At this point, I'll do anything I have to in order to survive.

"I'm not cracking anytime soon, Chief."

That word causes him to beam, pleased that someone is playing his little game with him. If I can just stay on his good side until I get the chance to backstab him, I'll be golden. I can use him to do some of the dirty work before I kill him too. Anything to get back home. If I have to flirt and cheat my way back home, I will do it. I have no other choice.

"You're a good kid, Roger." The anthem starts playing just then. The only face to appear in the sky is Branden from District Four. It's definitely a bit of a surprise to see him there, as he was one of the strongest tributes left and had a lot of drive. I can only hope this means the Careers are split now….

"Should I take watch?" I ask. I'm dead-tired, and having someone watch for me would be great, but I'm still not totally sure I want to trust Beo, especially not now, when he's so close to shattering.

"Nah, you get some sleep." There was a brief pause. "Y'know Roger, I'm glad I ran into you. I think I was losing my brain a little bit back there."

 _You haven't exactly found it yet, Sweetheart,_ I think, but swallow the clapback down. The situation is so delicate, the last thing I need is to make him mad.

"I think I still am, but now we can lose it together."

"Lose it together. Of course." It comes out a lot more sarcastic than I meant it, but he doesn't even notice that it was sarcastic and takes it as a genuine statement of excitement. I find it odd that someone so well-read doesn't recognize dripping sarcasm, but I have to thank my lucky stars that he doesn't.

"After all, the creature in the cave was not Beo, he was Jack, he was the chief, and now he had 'Roger, who carried death in his hands,'" Beo had resumed his narrator voice from earlier. "Together they would break the others and sacrifice them to the beast."

"I'm going to sleep now," I say, trying to lay down in a comfortable position. Have you ever tried to be comfortable with your arms tied behind your back and your legs tied tightly at the ankles? 0/10, would not recommend, not comfortable at all on the stone floor.

I close my eyes, but keep an ear open as Beo keeps mumbling, narrating.

After all, any details I can get on him now will only help me to break him when he's no longer useful.

~.~.

 ** _A/N: I'm so excited about this you guys have no idea! I've been planning this for months and now I FINALLY get to write it! This chapter didn't have any deaths, but I hope it had enough action that it was an interesting read. Let me know what you thought via reviews if you feel so inclined, I love feedback and it's really going to help me when it gets down to Victor-deciding time!_**

 ** _I think that's all I have to say. Legend, I have your sponsor gifts down and they've been received, so I'll edit my profile with the new changes. Next chapter we'll hear from Whimsy, I promise. XD_**

 ** _Chapter Question: What do you think will happen to Torque and Beo's alliance? Will it implode before it begins? Is Beo trustworthy? Let me know your guess for what might happen next!_**

 ** _Thanks for all the support, sponsoring is still open and this is the last chapter before costs of items increase again!_**

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youngpatriot: 44_**


	25. Stars and Darkness

_The eighth night_

* * *

-Whimsy's POV-

Feeling the wind on my face is what I really needed.

Bellona and I, after the other two betrayed the alliance, traveled back through the dark woods. We were trying to find them, so that we could force them to fight us, but the truth is that we just got lost. I was pretty relieved when the first exit we found was to the lobby, not the pond. I really don't want to fight those two together. Bellona and I know next to nothing about each other, we wouldn't stand a chance against such a cohesive team, no matter how well-trained we are.

Bellona seemed somewhat peeved, but didn't do anything about it. Both of us have been sleeping with one eye open lately, and we know it. We said we would stay together, just until we were sure the buddies were split for good, but now that we're no longer pursuing them I don't think either of us is fooled.

Just days ago, I would have trusted her fully. I guess I'd forgotten what we were there to do. And after being so-kindly reminded by that bastard from District 10, I'm not letting my guard down again.

I hadn't really considered what this would be like when I agreed to do it, but now that I'm here I'm not going to die so easily. I have to fight for it. Betray me once, shame on you. Betray me twice, shame on me. That's how it goes, right? I won't be fooled again.

We'd gotten out of the woods just around sunset. We were just so exhausted. I had to get out, just for a little bit. I could see in Bellona's eyes that she was torn, but when I went out she followed. We weren't out there for too long, but it was worth it to smell the fresh air, see leaves carried by the wind, and watch the sun sink, in all its ruby glory. I won't bore you by getting too poetic, but it was rejuvenating.

If there weren't so many damn steps, I would have run down in a heartbeat to feel the grass between my toes. I didn't realize how much I missed the ground, the soft, muddy, grassy ground, until I saw it. I tried not to think about it too much, though. Instead I just tried to let myself enjoy being out there. I could throw my arms out without worry of hitting a wall. I could jump around a little bit.

But, most importantly of all, I could see the fucking sky.

Alright, not the real sky, but damn if it wasn't close enough. I missed seeing the sky. I missed it more than I ever could have known.

Bellona and I sat together on sleeping bags, watching the sunset.

As the sun sank, though, all I could think about was how thankful I was to see the sun set again. I wondered, if he'd been given the opportunity, if Alma would have wanted to see the sun set one last time before he died. I wondered if he would have wanted to see the stars, just one last time. Maybe he was like me, and wouldn't have realized how much it meant to see the sky until it was too late for him. In that moment, I was glad that it wasn't too late for me.

That's where my mind is now, even after sky became completely dark and stars were sprinkled across it.

I try to focus on the breeze on my face instead, blowing my greasy hair, filling my lungs with cool freshness. It succeeds in putting me in a better mindset, so it feels like there's less weight on my chest. Sometimes I forget the weight of guilt on me until it's lifted for a while. Each time it's lifted, though, it feels twice as heavy when I pick it up again. Anyways, I stay in that mindset, and it's pretty nice, focused on me and enjoying the time while I can. I've been through a lot, so the short break of peace is what I need to get me through the rest of this mess.

I'm not in that good mindset for long, though, because soon the anthem plays and the sky shows Branden. He's smiling confidently, his eyes sparkling with the look of sheer confidence. He was really a fighter that did everything he could to keep going, to survive. But, in the end, he didn't get to see the stars either. He died in the dark, murky, humid woods. I wonder if he was awake to fight for his chance or not. I wonder if he thought about wishing he could see the sky one more time. It's amazing how something as simple as the sky can bring such strong memories.

Who could forget our first night here? We camped out under the stars and told stories and played silly games. We were just being teenagers. But an Arena is no place to be teenagers. Bellona knew that from the beginning. I was late to catch that bus. I was late to realizing how short our lives have been. How prematurely they've been cut away from us. Alma had so much more to do and he would never get to do it. Branden was on the pathway to success, but he would never get there. We're just teenagers, we have so much life to live, and instead our chances are wasted. I wish I hadn't wasted mine.

Yeah, I wish I'd never volunteered. I wonder if Tempest and Ezie are wishing the same. I doubt Bellona is. I wonder if Branden ever regretted it. I'm sure Alma regretted it. And if he didn't at the time, he would if he were in my shoes. I wish I'd never thrown away my chance. I wish that Fortune wouldn't have gotten knocked up. Then she'd be here and I'd be home. I'd have been pretty fucking depressed, maybe I would have felt lost and confused, unsure of where to go from there, but dammit I would have been alive and safe back home with my family and friends. And that's what really matters.

Damn, I wish I'd seen that earlier. I guess that this kind of situation would make anyone reassess their lives and their choices. I hope that none of my friends ever get this chance. I even hope Cheshire never gets this chance. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I wonder if Alma would have enjoyed the stars more knowing that it would be the last time he saw them. I wonder if Branden would have taken more time to appreciate the sunset if he'd known it would be the last one he ever saw. I hope it won't be, but I treat tonight like it'll be the last time I ever see the sky. I enjoy everything, take a moment to appreciate every sound, every scent, every second I'm allowed to look up.

"We shouldn't stay out here too much longer," Bellona says decidedly. Of course, it's right back to business with her. I know that it has to happen if I want to win, but the temptation to stay out here, here with the breeze and the stars, is so strong. I stand up, swallowing a lump in my throat. I've already proven to be the weak bitch the night Alma died, so by now I don't give a damn about tears. Bellona already knows how all this shit has affected me, what's the use in trying to hide it? Surprisingly, though, no tears are shed as I roll up my sleeping bag and put my backpack back on. Instead I feel calmly sad, almost numb, as I give one last look to the stars.

 _Thank you,_ I say in my head, to whatever might be out there. _Thank you for letting me see the stars._

Bellona enters the temple again, and I follow her slowly. We go the opposite direction to the dark woods, and end up in the expansive pit.

We both stay quiet for a minute, until I decide to speak.

"I'm not sure where to go from here."

She pauses, taking a deep breath. "Whimsy, I think that we should just split. Obviously neither of us is going to be able to one-up the other. I bet you want to get home just as much as I do. We should split up, one going high and one going low. The faster we get this to go, the sooner it'll be over. We'll both find and kill quickly, and if we're the final two, we'll fight then. How about it?"

I'm a little shocked. I thought she would have wanted to take me out when I couldn't fight back. I can't say I don't like the idea, though. It'll be a totally different game once I'm alone, but it has to happen sometime. Why shouldn't it happen now? I have a feeling this is about as fair as she's willing to play it with me.

"Sure. That sounds good to me." I try to smile, but she doesn't return it. I suppose her typical solemn, set expression is more appropriate for a situation like this than that.

"Do you want to go up or down?" she asks. I don't have to think very long or hard about this one.

I swallow hard. "Up. I can only hope that Hartwin is still up there. He's going to pay for what he did to Alma." I don't add that I'm pretty sure Beo's victims have all suffered down there and the last thing I'd want is to risk that.

"Alright. Then I'll go down." She nods decidedly, and then turns the other way, mostly looking awkward.

"Bellona?"

She glances back at me.

"If you happen to run into Hartwin… Get revenge for me. Please?"

Bellona gives a stiff nod. "Sure."

"Thanks." I've never been great at goodbyes, and it seems that she's not either. I wouldn't expect her to be, as she seems pretty bad at being social in general. "Good luck, Bellona." I say it with no malice. I really do wish the best for her. If I have to fight her later on, well, I'll just have to tackle that obstacle when I get there.

"Yes. And may the odds be ever in your favor, Whimsy." It seems genuine enough for me.

I was never as close with her as I was with a lot of the others, but there's still a nostalgic part of me that's going to miss her 'get off my lawn you hooligans' attitude. Yeah, maybe that's a teenager thing for me to say in a place like this, but I can't help the feeling. It's hard to spend so much time in a team with someone else and not even feel a little nostalgic when they're gone. I wonder if she feels the same way or not.

I don't have much time to think about it, because soon Bellona's found the rope to go down and jumped off the edge, being devoured by the darkness and leaving me alone.

I feel quite tired, but know that before I sleep I should find a room to sleep in. After all, the pit has so many different ways leading to it, there's probably a bigger probability of me being hunted if I stay here. It takes me a while to find the bridge that leads to the room with that monkey statue in it, but as soon as I do I can barely walk I'm so tired.

The room looks just like when we'd left it. I step forward, giving a look to that silly-looking piece of silver that caught my interest the first time we were here. It was the exact same, just as fat and squat as ever, looking just as proud. Through the exhaustion, I let out a small laugh. It's nice to see that some things haven't changed a bit since Alma died.

I try to stay in that mindset as I lay down.

As I drift off to sleep, I imagine myself as a fat little monkey that will always be proud of himself, no matter what happens in the world around him.

~.~.

 _The ninth day_

-Torque's POV-

I have no idea how the hell I'm not dead. I may be sore and achy as hell, but I'm not dead somehow. Even if I didn't get much sleep, I got to close my eyes and feel myself breathe. I could feel my heart pounding, the heat radiating off of my skin. I'm still alive, I'm still breathing. There were at least three times yesterday that I should have been dead, and somehow I'm not.

I can't help but feel a little proud. Somehow, I was able to cheat death by putting on this little production. Even if it's my fault in the first place that I got into the mess, considering I should have risked it and run before he had a chance to capture me, I still got out of it. That's the Torque Nawrocki way. I'm a problem-solver. Whoever said that brains aren't important has no idea what the hell they're talking about. If I hadn't read that book out of pure curiosity as a littlun, I would definitely be dead. Beo's narration lasts all night and into the morning. Some of it is pretty senseless, muttering to himself just to pass the time probably, but some was valuable.

"The chief should wake his second in command so they can get another sacrifice. The beast will be unhappy if he doesn't get another sacrifice today. Who is Jack? Who is Beo?"

I just keep my eyes closed, staying still like I'm sleeping. Even if he's not aware that he's narrating out loud, I want him to think I was somehow, by some miracle, able to sleep like this. Mostly out of petty spite. Hey, even if I'm in a fight to the death, I'll still be petty when I can. It's a part of who I am. And, if our little chief friend has taught us anything, it's about the importance of holding on tight to those things. The littlest detail could save me later. Another very important lesson about this whole fight to the death thing.

"Roger!" Suddenly I'm being shaken, somewhat roughly, by the shoulder. When I open my eyes, the sight of Beo's wide brown eyes surrounded by a rusty, flaky mask of dried blood makes me gag, which I try to play off as a hiccup. The stench punches me in the face again, but I'm left with no choice but to ignore it. "Time to get up! We have hunting to do!"

I count down the seconds until my feet will be untied. First, though, we have to take count of supplies and have some kind of breakfast. I bet we look pretty ridiculous, as Beo feeds me berries that I can't eat because my hands are tied. He's acting almost like a strict parent, who loves their child but also doesn't trust them at all. Well, this is one smart strict parent, because the minute I'm free I'm going to get out of here. It's still a pretty odd relationship. Knowing that he cares about me, but will certainly kill me if I give him a reason to. Probably the kind of relationship I should have had with Static if I was smart, except minus the general insanity and blood as face paint thing.

"Alright, are you ready to go?" Beo asks, smiling over at me. It's off-putting to say the least, his cheerful attitude combined with… Literally everything else.

"Sure am, Chief."

"Alright!" he jumps up to his feet before remembering that I'm still around and tied.

"Whoops! Sorry my friend, forgot that you were tied for a minute." I'm not exactly sure how true that is. After all, it's gotta be hard to forget that you've tied up a prisoner, but I just nod cooperatively, as always.

Beo kneels down, taking his knife and using it to cut the rope off my ankles. Immediately, as if it's an instinct, I stretch out my legs. Standing up is a relief. My balance is still off because my hands are tied, but it's a definite start.

"There we go! Roger and Jack, ready to hunt!" Beo grabs the rope typing my wrists together, preventing any chance I have at running away. "Backpack, check! Knife, check! Sword, check! Alright my friend, today you earn your mask, and therefore your freedom."

"Of course, fam." _Keep being cooperative Torque. Keep control of your snark Torque._ It's hard, but totally necessary to survive. I will do what I have to do.

Beo grins. "Alright! Which way should we go first?"

We have two choices that I can see. Either we can go through a tunnel, to wherever the hell Beo emerged from: probably a horrible, stinky, secluded, sad little place: or we can go back out to the pit. It's really a no-brainer.

"Well, there was no one where you were, right? If we go back out to the pit, there are lots of rooms we can check."

"Good thinking! The chief says we go to…" he pauses, probably for dramatic effect. "To the pit!"

"Lead the way," I say, trying to sound enthusiastic. I've never been good at seeming happy or excited, even if I actually am, so this isn't a very easy thing for me to act. Luckily, he doesn't seem to notice or care that my tone is probably significantly less enthusiastic-sounding as his, and starts walking, out through the archway that leads to the bridge that stretches the pit.

Beo gives me a light shove forward, staying behind me and holding onto the rope. I almost make a remark about how the chief should go first, but bite my tongue. The last thing I want is to be on his bad side when he has such a strong, undeniable grip on me like this. So, I keep my mouth shut and walk, one step at a time, across the bridge. I walk slowly and carefully, focusing on keeping my eyes straight forward. If I allow them to wander to the darkness, I might crack. I keep a steady pace, not letting any fear or hesitation show. I step onto the steady floor of the platform, and keep the pace deliberate and steady.

"Wow…"

"Did you not see the pit before?" I ask. If I can piece together his early Arena days, maybe it'll help me understand him more.

"I did. Me and Robert ran here. We decided to climb down the rope and that's where I found my cave."

"Hm. I see." I can only guess that Robert is Sondra. I think I remember him calling her that during training, but maybe I'm just making things up. Either way, I just nod understandingly.

"Maybe there's another bridge." I haven't really explored this area much. Most of the travel Static and I did was through tunnels.

"Come with me, we'll find out for ourselves!" _As if I have a choice._ Beo keeps me in front of him, holding on tightly to the rope as we walk around. It's pretty empty, not to mention impossible to see without any kind of light. After a little while of walking, we hear a noise. It doesn't take very long for me to recognize the sound of footsteps, quick and hurried footsteps coming across one of the bridges. It doesn't take very long for a silhouette to appear stepping out onto the platform. Beo lets go of my ropes to pursue. I see another silhouette on the bridge, but before I can tell who it is, they disappear again, going the other direction. Just then, I process the screams from Beo's victim.

My heart drops to my stomach.

"Well, isn't this dramatic irony?" he asks loudly, some kind of glee in his voice. While he's distracted tying up my District partner, I start to work the rope around my wrists. I'm starting to see white in a panic, but try to focus on one task at a time. "Now this is the ultimate test of loyalty!" I try to move my wrists, but they're tied by a mastermind. If only there'd been a training station dedicated to self-defense, getting yourself out of a bind. Heh. Wait, now's not the time for witty Torque moments, now is the time for focus.

Before I can even feel progress, Beo has Static tied just like he had me, arms and legs. She's still screaming up a storm, as if that will cause someone to rescue her.

"Come on Roger. Time to prove your loyalty."

I swallow hard. My heart pounds and all I feel is paralyzing fear. He goes to retrieve me, though, and soon I follow, trying to keep my legs from shaking. I don't want to hurt my District partner like this. Think Torque think, think of some way you can save her…

"See what she has?" Beo reaches down to pluck the tortoiseshell glasses off her face.

"You're not going to get away with this!" she shouts, struggling fiercely against the ropes.

"The specs," he says, laughing.

"Put those down!" she struggles, blindly, fiercely, but with everything in her. _I don't want this to happen to her, I have to think fast, Torque, time time time I have to think of something…_

"You know what happens to the specs, don't you?" Beo laughs, lifting his knee and effectively snapping the glasses in two with a loud crack. As much as I want to look away, I can't do it. I have to stay in character, maybe I'll be able to talk both of us out of this if I just try…

"Alright Roger. It's either her or both of you. Show your loyalty, Roger." _Think Torque, think… What else was in that book, what else can be of use, how can I solve this-_

"Torque you useless jackass!" she shouts. That causes me to look up. I thought my heart had already sunk to the bottom of my stomach, but by now it was all the way down at my feet.

"Excuse me?"

"How dare you leave me like that! How _dare_ you! I thought you were alright, but you know what, you're fucking shitty! You left me all alone!"

"It's the Games. I'm sorry, I didn't want to, but-"

"No, it doesn't matter! Shut your damn mouth! You're so fucking selfish and always have been! You are nothing but a stupid, fucking jackass!" Something stirs inside me.

Hearing those words come from her mouth rubs me the wrong way. You'd think after I opened up to her she'd at least have the good grace to avoid calling me selfish. I have done everything for my family, I have given up my time, money, education, hell, my entire identity, to keep them safe. I'm not fucking selfish and I refuse to let anyone tell me that I am. I told her everything about my struggle, she knows everything about how hard it all was for me, and now she has the audacity to call me selfish!? She has no idea how hard it was to put up with so much fucking dysphoria all the time, to have a family that didn't accept me and called me names, to have a little sister in such grave danger… If she had the tiniest fucking idea what _any_ of that was like, she certainly would not be calling me selfish right now. My vision starts to go red, but I try to keep myself calm and rational, just as I always have.

"You're just really shitty, you know that, _fam_?" she spits at me. Her remark bites, hard.

" _Only I say fam_." I turn to Beo. "She has a gash on her side from hitting the wall after an explosion."

She doesn't respond before Beo rolls up her shirt, tracing the knife over the wound to make it bleed. She just screams again as blood begins to pour out of the wound.

"The beast will have another sacrifice!" Beo says, sounding pleased.

"Torque! Don't do this! It isn't you!" her tone's changed. It's as if she's realized that now I've got the advantage and bullying me isn't going to take that away. It makes me laugh.

"Sorry. Apparently I'm so fucking selfish and always have been. She's burned on the left shoulder."

Static lets out another piercing scream as Beo traces the knife across her wounds.

"Roger." I see Beo cupping his hands to collect a puddle of blood as Static struggles, her screams echoing and resonating through the pit. I swallow hard, but when he beckons for me, I kneel beside him. I don't fight him when he pushes the hair off my forehead, smearing it with blood. The stench is unbearable, and I try to tune out Static's screams as he cakes it on my forehead, around my eyes, tracing down my nose, on my cheeks. It's still warm and wet, rolling down my face like warm, sticky sweat. I sit still until he's satisfied. It's not a full mask like his, but it's certainly close enough. My whole body shakes when he's done.

"Torque please! Beo!"

"I'm not Beo," he says, laughing as he adds some more of the blood to patchy spots on his cheeks and forehead.

"I'm not Torque," I impersonate, smirking.

"I think we're ready to sacrifice, Roger."

Suddenly an idea comes into my head. It comes from the very darkest place, but I swallow it back down. We've all suffered enough, I think. Instead I just kneel, straight-faced, as Beo ponders where he should stab to get the best kill.

"Carlton Nawrocki, I hope you burn in hell you fucking jackass! You are selfish and fake as hell!"

It's almost like I can feel my heart breaking. Maybe I am, maybe I already know I am. It's just a bit nuts, hearing those words come from the mouth of someone I thought so highly of. "Take it back."

"I stand by everything I say, you shitty, shitty jackass!"

"Heights."

Beo looks up. "Hm?"

"She's afraid of heights." I feel nothing but satisfaction at the way she immediately clams up. "I bet it'd be very scary if she took a tumble down the pit."

"Is that so?"

"No, they're lying, they're just trying to save themself!" she speaks with a new sense of urgency, panic.

"Hm, we'll see." Beo stands up, picking her up like she weighs nothing. She struggles, but it's in vain. She's going to regret saying those horrible things to me.

"Let me go! Please!" she sobs and hiccups and screams as Beo sits her down by the edge and unties her hands.

"Ready, here we go! Whoops!" he gives her a shove, causing a piercing scream to escape her as she grabs the ledge rapidly.

"Roger. Only one more task to earn your freedom." He gestures to where Static's barely holding on, ten fingers gripping the edge for dear life. I approach slowly. I can't see her.

"I'm sorry Torque!" she wails, trying to get up. "I'm sorry I didn't mean it please help me!"

I give a glance down. All I can see of her is the top of her fiery hair and the ten fingers that inch up as they start to slide off.

"I wish I could believe you," I say.

"Torque! Please, it's me, please, you wouldn't do this to me please!" she's clinging desperately.

"Sorry Piggy," I say, smirking. "If I'm really a shitty jackass, I might as well fill the role to the max." I lift a foot and stomp on her right hand, causing her to scream as her fingers crack under my weight. Her sobs echo, louder and louder, and for a second I almost consider trying to save her again.

 _No Torque. This is the Hunger Games. Only one can win._

"Please! Torque! Please! Faraday! Current! Arc! Disc!" she starts shouting names out, but none of them are nearly as important as the ones I'm thinking about.

"Maybe now you'll understand what it's like to hit rock bottom too," I growl, my voice laced with pure spite as I bring my foot down on her other hand. She loses her grip and falls, screaming.

The darkness swallows her like a beast devouring its prey.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Officially down to the final eight, woop woop! Next chapter will be Final Eight interviews, hopefully it won't be obnoxiously long but I always tend to overdo final 8 interviews so I guess we'll have to see where it goes. My goal is to be done with this story by the end of the summer and have my next partial up, but we'll see how it goes as I juggle projects. I think it's pretty realistic though!**_

 _ **Ah Static. You were supposed to make it to the final eight, probably even further. But no. Your rash, hurtful words were the death of you. Sorry, not sorry. :)**_

 _ **So, I have no plans made from here so we'll just have to see where this thing goes! Thanks for all the support and reviews from my loyal readers, I always appreciate knowing your thoughts! New item prices will be posted on the next chapter, but if you can't wait to put in your sponsor request just send me a PM and I'll do my best to be helpful!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Would you rather see one longer interview or multiple shorter interviews for the families of the final 8? Besides your own, whose are you looking forward to seeing most?**_

 _ **I'm going to post an Arena map with the locations of all the final 8 after this is posted! Just a few more deaths and I'll put up a Victor poll!**_

 _ **Scores:**_

 _ **aceswims: 30**_

 _ **AKLNxStories: 75**_

 _ **Alecxias: 2**_

 _ **AllHailTheNerdiness: 165**_

 _ **AmericanPi: 216**_

 _ **Apollo's Slytherpuff Daughter: 113**_

 _ **Becksheart: 4**_

 _ **bLizzieard: 50**_

 _ **bobothebear: 14**_

 _ **calebbeers21: 6**_

 _ **Cass: 154**_

 _ **Cloe: 270**_

 _ **Coolgal02: 61**_

 _ **CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean: 110**_

 _ **DaughterOfTigris: 135**_

 _ **david12341: 205**_

 _ **deathless. smile: 15**_

 _ **District7axemurder: 15**_

 _ **Dreamer: 1260**_

 _ **dreams and desperation: 120**_

 _ **Emrys Holmes: 98**_

 _ **TheEngineeringGames: 235**_

 _ **epictomguy: 24**_

 _ **XxXFangirlonlineXxX: 32**_

 _ **Feniks16: 10**_

 _ **Fire'sCatching: 5**_

 _ **GalacticCoach: 39**_

 _ **Golden Moon Huntress: 184**_

 _ **goldie031: 164**_

 _ **hopefuldreamer1991: 179**_

 _ **Jess: 718**_

 _ **Jeptwin: 2**_

 _ **judmud: 4**_

 _ **Kate: 823**_

 _ **Lady Lysa Arryn: 127**_

 _ **Legend: 654**_

 _ **Littlefoot876: 10**_

 _ **Little Knight Mik: 150**_

 _ **Master Maedhros: 10**_

 _ **MissVolturiKingsfan: 10**_

 _ **Mystical Pine Forest: 30**_

 _ **Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg: 4**_

 _ **OncerTillTheEnd: 4**_

 _ **xxPeppermintxx109: 159**_

 _ **Platrium: 239**_

 _ **Programming: 7**_

 _ **TheReaper94: 2**_

 _ **rosecatforever: 185**_

 _ **Rosemarie Benson: 12**_

 _ **ShunKazamis-Girl: 26**_

 _ **Silverdust64: 10**_

 _ **Singlewave: 15**_

 _ **stop-pulling-on-mariazell: 30**_

 _ **Sparky She-Demon: 14**_

 _ **tracelyn: 45**_

 _ **TyeTheLurker (Guest): 65**_

 _ **VeneratedArt: 105**_

 _ **the victor of panem: 71**_

 _ **We're All Okay: 71**_

 _ **W. R. Winters: 316**_

 _ **Xechaste: 4**_

 _ **youngpatriot: 44**_


	26. Final Eight Interviews & Updated Prices

The television screens across Panem were lit up with the new Interviewer, excited to have some new blood. If Caesar Flickerman was nervous, he didn't show it as he smiled into the camera. His hair and eyes matched his suit, which was midnight blue. He was certainly a looker, with a clean look and a bright, white smile.

"Welcome, one and all, to the Final Eight interviews for the Forty-Second Annual Hunger Games!" Caesar greeted the viewers, smiling, and the crowd that was watching in the Town Square applauding and whooping loudly. "Without any further ado, let's go to District One to meet the family and friends of our first tribute, Whimsy Chandler!"

The first interview was with Whimsy's parents. Both of them were extremely excited and proud of their daughter, welcoming Caesar excitedly and talking frantically. The background stayed the same for the next interview, which was with Whimsy's siblings.

"Now I'm here with Whimsy's siblings! Care to introduce yourselves?"

The nine-year-old was not shy at all. She beamed at the cameras, her brown eyes alight. "I'm Pygmy Chandler!" she said proudly, "I'm nine! Whimsy is my big sister!"

The sixteen-year-old gave the cameras a calm smile. "I'm Brisk, I'm sixteen."

"Wonderful, wonderful! So, I'm sure Whimsy is relying on her happy memories of you to make it. What kind of memories would those be?"

"Whimsy loves to play with me!" Pygmy chirped happily. "She's so much fun! We like to play tennis together, she's very good at tennis!"

"How sweet. You, Brisk?"

"Whimsy's my best friend," he says, smiling slightly. "She's amazing. We have plenty of fun memories. One in particular is the time she was ten and I was eight. We thought we could take care of a goldfish. The little guy ended up jumping out of his bowl after one week. Whimsy cried at the fish funeral, but now we laugh about it."

Caesar laughed with them. "Oh, my goodness, how sweet. Certainly good memories to hold onto!"

After a few more questions about their relationships with Whimsy, Caesar asks the ever popular final question: "If you could say one thing to Whimsy right now, what would it be?"

Pygmy is quick to interject. "I'd tell her I love her and that she's doing great and she'd definitely going to win win win!"

Caesar laughs. "And you, Bright?"

"I'd tell her to stay alert. Play smart. She knows what to do to win."

"Good, good! Thank you for being here!" He shook both siblings' hands before the screen changed to another bright, cheerful living room. The next pair to be interviewed was the pair of Whimsy's friends, Quality and Glow. Quality proved to be a sweet, pretty girl, though not the brightest. Glow was very light-hearted, teasing lightly but making sure everyone knew how much he loved his friend. After that interview, the scene switched again to another well-lit living room.

"Now I'm here with Whimsy's best friend, Amaze Coburn!"

The girl sitting across from him was radiantly beautiful, with blonde hair and bright, blue-violet eyes. She smiled graciously as Caesar welcomed her.

"So, Amaze, you're a year younger than Whimsy. Could we anticipate seeing you in the Games in the future?"

Amaze gave a small smile. The truth was that she was starting to doubt that she wanted to volunteer. The way that Whimsy cried. She was different. Amaze could see that. The girl that she loved, the radiant, beautiful Whimsy that Amaze knew, she was gone. Replaced by a hollow, gray ghost. Ever since Alma died, Cheshire had been frequenting the Training Center. She was stronger than ever. At this point, Amaze was just ready to let her have it.

"That Games just aren't for me, I think," she said. "Wouldn't want to steal my girl's thunder!"

Caesar laughed at this. "That's right, it is all about Whimsy now. Do you have any plans for when she returns home?"

Amaze bit her lip. She wanted to do everything with Whimsy when she returned. But she couldn't say that, not here, not now, the time wasn't right.

"Nothing special. But she's my best friend, I'm sure we'll do a lot of celebrating!"

"So sweet," Caesar says to the crowd, which applauds in agreement. He asks her a couple more questions before wrapping it up.

"What would you say to Whimsy if you could talk to her now?"

Amaze took a breath. There were lots of things she would say, but not in front of the entire nation. "I would tell her to use what she knows and keep playing the game."

"Thank you so much for being with me, Amaze," Caesar said, shaking the girl's hand. "Stick around, because after the break, we're going to District Two to meet the families of Bellona Steller and Ezekiel Bond!"

The crowd applauds as the scene fades out into ads. After the commercial break, Caesar is shown sitting in a bright, nicer room with Bellona's Aunt and Uncle. The audience learned some of her story: after her mother died and her father left, Bellona and her younger brother Mars were raised by their Aunt and Uncle. They were very tense. Her Aunt was obviously extremely worried about her, while her Uncle was basically silent. After that, Caesar interviewed Bellona's younger brother Mars. Mars proved to be proud of his sister and rooting for her to come back. He was pretty enthusiastic and liked being on the television.

The third interview was with Bellona's cousin, Corona Jacobson.

"Welcome, welcome Corona!"

"Thank you Caesar." Corona looked tired, like she hadn't gotten much sleep recently.

"Well, let's just get it out now: this isn't your first Final Eight interview, is it?"

Corona swallowed a lump in her throat. "No. It isn't."

"Well, I think that's the case for multiple people we're scheduled to see tonight. For those of you in our crowd that don't remember, Corona was interviewed on behalf of her best friend, Janie Denali. Janie later placed fifth."

Corona swallowed hard. She was prepared for that. Honestly, she was just glad she was here, that Bellona was still alive and still had a chance.

"Well, how have you been since then? And your friends?"

"We've been alright," she says politely. She keeps her composure well. "We've been coping."

"Good to hear you're doing well," Caesar says. "But, enough of that, let's talk about Bellona! How is your relationship with her?"

"We're very close."

"What did you think of her decision to volunteer?"

"If that's what she wants, I support her. She's a rational person. I trust that she thought a long time on it and wasn't rash. If that's what she wants, I support her."

"What a great relationship!" He asks her to recount some memories with Bellona, even asking if Bellona had ever met Janie, before the interview ends.

"So, what would you say to her, if you could?"

"I would say… You're doing great so far. Don't drop the ball. Please."

"Thank you again for your time, Corona!" Caesar says, shaking her hand.

The screen switches to a smaller, dimmer room. Sitting inside was a sad-looking boy with messy brown hair and brown eyes.

"Here we have Nikolai Franke, one of Bellona's closest friends. I think we all remember him!" The crowd applauds in assent. "If you live under a rock or were just born yesterday, here's your reminder: Nikolai was interviewed last year on behalf of Fabian Rockwell. Fabian went on to place sixth. So how have you been Nikolai?"

The boy fidgeted nervously. He had seemed so uncomfortable last year, worried sick about Fabian and anxious to be in front of the cameras. Yin told Caesar how incredibly hard it was to get him to talk.

"Fine," he said, quietly. "She's going to avenge him."

"Bellona, you mean?"

"Yes. She's going to win and avenge him."

"How interesting! Do you think she's disappointed that Sequoia fell to the Arena before she could find her?"

"Maybe. That doesn't matter though. She just has to win. I want her home."

"Well, she certainly has a very good chance! Do you think you'll live with her in the Victor's Village?"

Nikolai's ears flushed. "Oh, no. I couldn't. I mean… I hope she'll have me over. But I wouldn't live with her."

"I see. What kinds of things would you two do together?"

"Um… I don't know. Probably play cards or something?"

"That sounds like a very calm, relaxing evening. From what we know about Bellona, she would love that."

Nikolai nodded, smiling slightly.

Caesar asked about some memories with Nikolai, Bellona and Fabian, and for some more on Bellona's personality outside the Games, before the final question.

"What would you say to her if you could?"

"I'd say that everyone back home is proud of her. There are only seven tributes left. She can do it."

"Thank you Nikolai! Up next, a chat with some of the relatives and friends of Ezekiel Bond!"

The screen switched to a small, dimly-lit house, in which sat a young-looking boy.

"I'm here with the boy who Ezie volunteered for, Milon Attwater! Welcome Milon!"

The boy looked happy to be on television. He had dirty blond hair and bright brown eyes.

"Thanks Caesar!"

"So, how old are you, Milon?"

"Fifteen!"

"Were you surprised to hear your name?"

"Of course! But excited! I got to visit Ezie after the reaping! He was really nice!"

"Tell me about him."

"He was really nice. He was really happy to see me and he shook my hand."

"Were you surprised that he was the volunteer?"

"Yeah! I hadn't met him before. He said I was a good kid though and that if I wanted to volunteer for the Games I could make it someday!"

"So, would we be seeing you in the Forty-Fifth Games?"

Milon grinned. "Hard to say. We'll see!"

"What about the rest of your family? Did any of them know Ezie?"

"Nope! My big brother Helier is nineteen, he's gonna be a Peacekeeper someday! He was glad that Ezie volunteered for me. It was unsure if anyone was going to do it."

"Well, he's been very brave, hasn't he? He's definitely very witty!"

"He's so smart! He's been doing great!"

"So, what would you say to him now, if you could?"

"I'd tell him… Keep being brave! Woo hoo! I'm rooting for you!"

"Thanks for being here, Milon!"

The screen switches to a tiny, isolated shack with only the light coming in through the windows.

"Now I'm here with one of Ezie's friends, Eddie Finch! Welcome Eddie!"

The man looked vaguely familiar to a couple of very acute Capitolites.

"Thank you, Caesar." The man had black hair that was slick and shiny from being styled back with a lot of hair gel. He wore a scarf over his mouth. That, combined with his hoarse voice, suggested that he was under the weather. His eyes looked similar to Ezie's, bright blue.

"So, how do you know Ezie?"

"We were friends, as teens," Eddie said, pausing to cough, turning away from Caesar.

Caesar laughed. "Well, I would say that you still are teens."

"Oh. I meant, younger teens. We kind of drifted apart."

"Were you surprised to see him volunteer then?"

"Nope, he's always been that sort."

"Has he? Interesting. Why don't you tell us one of your fondest memories?"

Eddie thought for a second. "Well… One time, when we were younger, maybe, thirteen… Us and a couple of other friends, Isaac and Catelyn, we all went to a school dance together. As was usual, I had a line of people that wanted to dance with me, and Ezie's was alright. Anyways, I said something particularly funny, and Ezie laughed so hard he actually peed his pants. We had to go back to his house to get him underwear!" The Capitol crowd burst out laughing at that, and Eddie's eyes glinted with a smirk. "Yup. Totally true story."

Caesar laughed for a while, knowing the crowd would do the same. "Aw, that's an embarrassing story. But charming! If you could say something to him right now, what would it be?"

Eddie thought for a minute. "I'd say that he knows what to do. He should have no problem escaping that Arena alive." The smirk didn't budge.

"Thank you so much for your time, Eddie!" Caesar reached over to shake his hand.

The final interview on Ezie's behalf is with Eddie's companion. This man was built strong, with dirty blond hair that fell over his glasses-framed eyes. He also seemed under the weather and wore a mask around his mouth. He wore a baggy gray sweatshirt that hid his figure. His bright blue eyes stuck out from where the hair was covering them.

His name was Pontius Finch. He was Eddie's husband, and seemed a lot more camera shy than Eddie. He was an old friend of Ezie's from school, where he'd met Eddie. Pontius was awkward in front of the camera and took a while to stutter out answers, but Caesar remained patient. After that interview came another commercial break, with a promise to meet the friends and family of Tempest La Rossa.

After more commercials, Caesar was in a naturally-lit, small but homely room with Tempest's parents. They talked about their daughter and how they may have been worried about her volunteering, but were extremely proud of her and rooting for her. The fish merchants were very nice and cared a lot about their daughter.

The next interview was with Tempest's brother Lee and one of her friends, Rafferty. The two of them were very excited to be there, and seemed to be pretty close. Lee was settled into Rafferty's arm around his shoulders, beaming widely.

"Now I'm here with Tempest's brother, Lee La Rossa, and her friend Rafferty Towers! Nice to see you both!"

"Good to be here!" Lee said.

"So, Lee, you're seventeen, yes?"

"That's right!" His gray eyes were alight.

"Will we be seeing you next year?"

"Nah, that's not really my jam. My sister would just keep looking for new and more dangerous ways to one-up me until someone chickened out. I have to draw the line somewhere."

Caesar laughed briefly along with the crowd. "I see. So, why don't each of you tell us a special memory you have with Tempest?"

Lee smiled. "I have so many stories! We did so much stuff together and we'll keep causing havoc! Once, the two of us teamed up to get back at a really mean old teacher that hated us because we're not totally drab. So, we decided to give her some embarrassment. She was half-blind, so she had no idea we put some sticky, melted brownies from the bakery on her chair. It seriously looked like she shit herself. Everyone was in hysterics. I got detention but Tempest got off clean. So, she helped me sneak out of detention." He grinned widely.

"How can I one-up that memory?" Rafferty asked, nuzzling Lee's nose, who giggled quietly and beamed up at him.

"One time Tempest and I were at the ocean swimming and we saw all these small little fish around. So, naturally, I dared her to catch one with her mouth. She went through with it, too, every disgusting second of it!"

Caesar laughed. "Did she succeed?"

"It took a while, but she did. Tempest never gives up until she's victorious."

"Well, that tenacity is certainly evident now!" There were a couple more questions about her relationship status and such before Caesar concluded the interview.

"What would you say to her, if you could?"

"I'd say… Keep giving them all hell!" Lee said, grinning.

"I'd tell her to…. Watch out. I don't want her to lose her chance, lose her life, all because of…" _Him_. "…A mistake."

"Thank you for being here, my friends!" Caesar said, shaking their hands.

The next scene was with two of Tempest's other friends. The room in which it was filmed was much nicer room than the previous few. It was a bright, sunlight-filled parlor that looked to be in the higher-class part of the District.

"Now I'm here with Tiller Clarke and Isidore Parish, Tempest's friends! Welcome!"

"Thanks," Tiller said, smiling politely. He was an attractive boy with dark hair, tan skin, and bright green eyes.

"Thank you Caesar!" Isidore was a boy with dark skin, short-cropped black hair, and an extremely bright smile.

"So, you're both friends of Tempest's. Did you know she was going to volunteer?"

"I was the first person she told," Tiller said proudly. "I always knew she could do it."

"I'm so proud of her! She's amazing."

"She's proved to be extremely tenacious. Do you have any stories of her winning attitude?"

"The musical chairs incident of 38," Tiller said quietly, which caused Isidore to howl with laughter.

"Yes!" he said, laughing. "Oh God, that was amazing!"

"Well, let us in!" Caesar said.

"It was Isidore's birthday party. We were playing a game of musical chairs. Now, we're all young teens, and we're hyped up on sugar, so it was intense. Tempest was going to do anything to win," Tiller started. Isidore quickly picked up.

"One by one everyone else got out. It was just me and her. Now, I'm a pretty laidback kinda guy, but hey, I was really into it. But man, she wasn't going to give in. There was one chair left. When that music stopped, it was a battle. I sat but she tackled me, we were fighting all the way. While we were fighting-" Isidore stopped to laugh, so Tiller continued.

"I dared Rafferty to go sit. But that didn't stop Tempest, oh no. Suddenly it was a competition to sit on Rafferty."

Isidore laughed. "Lots of accidental grinding," he said, still laughing. "I ended up with a black eye in the end. She felt really bad, but that's alright. Still to this day the only fight I've ever been in."

Caesar and the Capitolites laughed. "Wow, what a story! Definitely shows her winning nature. What do you think of her relationship with her ally, Ezie?"

The boys exchanged a look.

"I think she's being smart and cautious, but she can't get attached," Tiller said.

"She knows what to do. She's ambitious enough. She can do it." Isidore sounded serious, which he rarely did.

"Well, I sure hope she succeeds."

"So do we."

Caesar asked a few more questions before he asked the infamous last question. "What would you say to her if you could?"

"I would say to keep up the good work! And be careful!" Isidore says.

"I'd say that it's time for her to come back home. We have ice cream to eat and memories to make."

"How sweet. After the break, we'll be here interviewing the friends and family of District Five's Torque Nawrocki! Stick around!"

The screen faded to commercials.

When the program came back, Caesar was sitting in a small, dim, dusty room with Torque's parents. Through the interview, their mother stumbled multiple times on their pronouns, tring her very best to correct herself. Their father made no effort, continually talking about his "son." Caesar did his best to nudge them In the right direction, but there was only so much he could do. Torque's mother seemed fairly hysterical about her oldest and their actions in the Arena. Their father, however, believed that they were totally justified in what they did. "It's the Hunger Games," he said. "Good to see him asserting his dominance." That made their mother even more frantic and uncomfortable.

For the second interview, the background changed to the almost harsh white light of a hospital room.

"Now I'm here with all three of Torque's sisters! Can we have names and ages, please, lovely ladies?"

The younger two giggled at that as the oldest, a girl with auburn hair in a braid and dark circles under her eyes, took the mike. "Fiona. Thirteen."

"I'm Ree!" the girl on the bed piped up. She had thinning, light brown hair and bright brown eyes. "I'm nine!"

"I'm Kyria!" the youngest giggled, "I'm six!"

"Well, it's so nice to be with you! So, I come to understand that you only just recently moved here? What brought that about?"

The girls exchanged a look and started giggling some more.

Kyria started to speak. "Someone anonanon… Uh…"

"Anonymous," Fiona said.

"Anonymous," Kyria repeated. "Someone anononeese payed all Ree's medical bills!"

"Oh, really? How kind of them!"

"It was very kind," Fiona says. "To whoever donated, we just wanted to say thank you. Ree is getting the treatment she needs. Her health's only been improving. From the bottom of all our hearts, thank you. You saved my sister's life." She sniffled but was smiling. "Now all we need our big sibling back and we'll be complete again. For real."

"Just so sweet!" Caesar asked them plenty of questions about Torque for memories and brighter times. He avoided asking the younger girls about their controversial actions. Caesar knew they wouldn't understand what was happening, and even if Fiona did she wouldn't say anything with the others in the room.

"So, what would you say to them, if you could?"

"I'd tell them to get back quick! I miss them!" Kyria says.

"I'd tell them that I'm going to be okay, so they should be too," Ree says.

"I'm tell Torque to… Think. Please. Think."

"Thank you for being here with me!" Caesar says, shaking their hands before the scene changes to another dusty, small, dim living room.

"Now I'm here with Torque's friends, Jost Albero and Beverly Jankovic! Welcome you two!"

"Thanks," Bev said quietly. Jost just nodded.

"So, I think that the big question is: what are your thoughts on the past events?"

"I…" Bev started, but bit her lip. "What other choice did they have?"

"They didn't have to do that," Jost said under his breath. He seemed bothered, exhausted, and sad.

"Well, why don't you tell us a good memory you have with them?" Caesar asked.

Both friends were quiet. Bev spoke first. "We met going for the same book in the library. About LGBT+ stuff. I was trying to get it when I felt a pull from the other side. I saw them over the shelf and we agreed to share the book. I fell asleep against them and they were nice enough to not wake me up. We were friends ever since."

Jost didn't tell a story. He looked partially like he didn't even want to be there at all. Caesar asked a few more questions, trying to keep the mood up and get the boy to talk, before wrapping it up.

"What would you say to Torque, if you could?"

"I'd tell them to keep fighting. Keep playing their cards. Keep it up," Bev said quietly.

"I'd tell them… Get with it. Kill Beo. I want Torque back," Jost said quietly, looking upset.

"Thank you for being here. Next up, we get to meet the loved ones of Mr. Beowulf Mortimer! Stay tuned!"

More commercials. The Capitolites didn't seem to mind, though, seeing ads for all kinds of shiny new things made them even more excited.

The first interview when they came back took place in a nice, well-furnished, well-lit living room with a little blonde girl. Eloise, Beo's younger sister, had a short interview. Her parents were hard-pressed to even let her talk to Caesar. The only convincing factor was a matter of reputation, exposing her to the Capitol in that positive context. Beo's parents refused to speak on his behalf. Eloise had plenty of things she would have liked to say. She missed her brother. She was scared of what he was becoming. She still loved him. She wanted him to come home. She wanted to learn from him and try to make things right. But under her parents' watchful eye, she couldn't. She gave a quick, curt interview before Caesar had to leave.

The next interview was with a tired-looking boy. He had messy auburn hair and looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Now I'm here with a, um, friend of Beo's, Nik Spider! So, how long have you known each other?"

"I was… Four. When we met," he mumbled.

"Four, wow! That's a long-standing friendship!"

Nik nodded silently. "Yeah. It was."

"So, what happened between you? We're all extremely curious."

Nik looked like he didn't want to say. He just shook his head a bit. "I can't."

Caesar sighed, and the rest of the Capitol was disappointed as well.

"Well, can you give us a fun memory you share? Beo already narrated a lot of them." Nik looked pained, but nodded.

"He made living at home worth it. He made everything more tolerable. Sometimes we would just lay and read together. He really liked to lay on my chest. He said that he liked to listen to my heart beat." The memories only seemed to bring pain and Caesar knew that there was no way for this interview to be cheerful.

"Well, Beo's not the first one you've had in the Arena, no?"

Nik stared at the floor and didn't say anything.

"For those who didn't know, Nik's cousin Lyndon was in the 36th Hunger Games. He unfortunately died in nineteenth place. How have you been since then?"

Nik gave a small shrug in response. It was obvious that he really wasn't okay. Caesar didn't have the heart to ask what he thought of the events in the Arena. He spent the rest of the time trying to get Nik to lighten up, but his efforts were in vain.

"What would you say to him, if you could?"

Nik swallowed a lump in his throat. "It's not too late," he choked out. That was all he could say. Caesar concluded the interview as quick as he could so that Nik wouldn't cry on camera.

The final interview on Beo's behalf took place in a small, cramped, dark room.

"Now I'm here with another of Beo's friends, Chancellor Everill. Surely everyone remembers our talk with him last year, on behalf of Josie Tarver! How does it feel to be back?"

Chancellor just shrugged. "Alright."

"So, tell us a bit about your relationship with Beo. What are some fond memories you have of him?"

"We weren't really all that close. I guess I'm just guilty by association. I'm a whore, he just buys me out. I don't really have any fond memories."

"Oh… Well, what are your thoughts on his actions in the Arena then?" Caesar was obviously awkward.

"Unsurprising," Chancellor deadpanned.

"How have things been since Josie's death?"

Chancellor was almost honest, but bit his lip. "We've been recovering," he answered bluntly. That wasn't what he really wanted to say, but he didn't have much of a choice.

"So, do you think you could mend things with Beo someday?"

Chancellor sighed, but gave him the answer everyone wants to hear. "Maybe someday." It was a lie, but Chancellor didn't want anything to happen to him over this.

"Is there anything you can tell us about why Beo is acting this way?"

"Because he's a got problems." The Capitol was full of uncomfortable laughter.

"Well, he seems to have a strong strategy! Would you say he's smart enough to win?"

"Beo knows how to get what he wants," Chancellor said. "He'll do whatever it takes to get it. No matter what."

"I think you're right, my friend. Is there anything you would say to him, if you could?"

Chancellor simply shook his head slightly. Caesar then shook his hand and thanked him for being there, promising for interviews in District Ten after the break.

Caesar began the interview in a nice living room of a quaint ranch house, full of sunlight. He talked to Hartwin's parents. Hartwin's father Kyvell was just like Hartwin, quiet and gruff. His mother Marsha dominated the interview. When asked to talk aobut her son, she rambled on and on about how good Hartwin was and how proud she was that he made it to the final eight. She rambled about everything, so much that Caesar had to fight to get a word past her.

The second interview took place in the same room.

"Now I'm here with Hartwin's sisters! Can you tell me your names and ages?"

"Court. I'm fifteen." The girl was tall and looked very awkward, in a way that was almost comically identical to her older brother.

"Hi, I'm Mia McCoy and I'm eight!"

"Nice to meet you! So, are you proud of Hartwin?"

"I'm so proud of him!" Mia said. "I'm always proud. He's going to make our District proud and come back home! If he comes back home we're going to move, Mama said. Maybe, I guess, but I heard Mama and Daddy talking about us going to school for longer!" Mia beamed proudly.

Court gave a tiny nod. "Mhm," she grunted.

"That's good! Can you tell us about a fun memory you have together?"

The girls exchanged a look before Mia spoke.

"One Saturday I got to help Hartwin work on the ranch! It was so much fun! He showed me how to feed the pigs and collect eggs from the chickens! It was a hard day of work and both of us were really sweaty 'cause it was hot. But afterwards, he saddled up the horses and let me ride one! He promised that someday he'd show me the way to ride horses to town, so we can get things and look in all the windows and stuff."

"That sounds like a lot of fun!" Caesar said.

"It was!" Mia chirped happily.

"How about you Court?"

The other girl just shrugged. "I miss a lot of memories. School."

"Oh, are you a scholar?"

Court shook her head. "I'd rather work on the ranch."

"Well, someday you'll be old enough and work there, right?"

Court nodded, smiling a bit.

Caesar asked them a few more questions about Hartwin and the fun times they had with him, along with his sneaky nature in the Games.

"So, if you could say anything to him, what would it be?"

"I'd tell him to get himself back home quickly!" Mia said. "We still have lots of things to do together!"

"Be smart," Court said briefly.

"Thank you so much for being here with me!" Caesar said, shaking both girls' hands as the interview concluded.

The next interview took place in the same room. Caesar sat across from a smiling boy with bright eyes.

"Now I'm here with Leary Baker, an employee on the McCoy's ranch and a friend of Hartwin's! Welcome Leary!"

"Thank you Caesar!" he said, smiling brightly.

"So, you worked next to Hartwin, right? Surely you've had some conversations with him. Anything in particular stand out?"

Leary grinned. "It's weird. I mean, Hart's not much of a talker. But he lets me talk a lot. I really like to talk about where I'm from. You see, I didn't grow up here. I grew up in a small town, about, oh, fifty minutes from here? I lived in the orphanage. The McCoys sometimes ride into town, that's where they met me and agreed to give me a job working on their ranch. Best blessing I've ever gotten, really it was."

"That was very sweet of them! So, Hartwin didn't open up much to you?"

"Not too much. But that's alright! I'm more than happy to fill the silence. It's really nice that he's so patient with me. He never gets annoyed when I go on and on and on. He's just a nice guy. Just quiet."

"That's certainly how it seems!" Caesar asked a couple more questions before wrapping it up.

"What would you say to him, if you could?"

"I would say…" Leary flashed the camera a huge smile. "You got it! Woo hoo! You can do this Hart! Just a few more to go!"

"Wonderful! Thanks for being here with me!" Caesar shook Leary's hand, smiling.

The last interview was with Hartwin's best friend, Mona Lee Woods. She was very similar to Hartwin in personality, but not quite as much as Court. Mona, though she was clearly uncomfortable being in front of the camera, was still able to give a good interview about Hartwin. She told some good stories about their times together. She told the story of how they met, avoiding the chaos at a school dance. A couple more stories later and Caesar sent her off with a promise for one more tribute's friends and family after the break.

This commercial break wasn't as long as the others as much of the crowd was already starting to get restless and leave. Not many people had much faith In Elias, the fifteen-year-old from District Eleven of all places. Both of his allies had quite a shot, and both of them fell early. Too early. He was still alive somehow.

The screen switched to the smallest, darkest room of all the interviews. Elias's parents were interviewed first. His mother was very proud of her son. She had dark circles under her eyes and seemed like she hadn't slept in days. His father was a hard worker, an seemed a bit surprised that he was being interviewed, that Elias had made it this far. But definitely thankful. They told a few stories about the interesting places that Elias's curiosity has carried him over time. Caesar and the Capitol were amused at these stories, and liked the insight into the otherwise quiet, introverted tribute.

The second interview took place in a small room, only lit by the light of a small window.

"Now I'm here with Elias's friends, Lon and Periwinkle!" Caesar said. "Welcome, welcome!"

"Thanks," said Lon. Periwinkle was more camera-shy, simply providing a small nod.

"Five years," Lon said. "We met when we were ten."

"Seven years," said Periwinkle, quietly.

"Wow, those are some strong friendships! What kinds of things do you like to do together?"

"We like to play word games," said Lon.

Caesar raised an eyebrow at the camera. "Word games? How so?"

"Like, we'll come up with a category. Like, animals. Then one person will name an animal. The next person has to name an animal that starts with the last letter of the first animal's name. So… If I said… Mouse."

"Elephant," Periwinkle says, smiling.

"Tiger!"

"Rat!"

"Turtle!"

"Like that. And if someone runs out, they lose!"

"Oh, wow. Sounds interesting! Do you like those kinds of mind games?"

"Yeah, they're really fun!" Lon said enthusiastically.

"Do you think you'll play them even when Elias gets back?"

Lon and Periwinkle exchanged a look.

" _No_ ," Lon said sarcastically. "Of _course_ not." He and Periwinkle exchanged a grin at the sarcastic comment.

"Well, you'll have plenty of time for games after these Games, right?"

They both nodded slightly.

"We in the Capitol were certainly surprised that Elias made it as far as he did. Are you?"

"No," said Lon. "We knew he had it in him." Periwinkle nodded.

"Well, we at the Capitol wish him the very best! He certainly has plenty of potential!" Caesar asked them a couple more questions about Elias and their shenanigans together before wrapping it up with the final question.

"So, what would you say to Elias, if you could?"

"I'd tell him… Play smart. Keep playing the game how you know to," Lon says.

"Win," says Periwinkle, in a tiny voice. "Try your best to win."

"Thank you for talking with me!" says Caesar, shaking both their hands. "Next up, for our last interview, we'll be heading to the Capitol to talk to someone we all know and love!"

The scene switches to a nice room, with only the best furnishings and lighting.

"Now, you may say this room looks very familiar! In fact, that door right there is the mentor room!" The camera showed the doorway to the room with a lot of separate screens and stations. "And here I'm with Donavan Osten, the Victor of the 39th Hunger Games! Fun fact: these two are related!"

"Very distantly," Donavan said quietly. His voice was low and grumbly.

"So, did you know Elias before he was reaped?"

"Not well. I mean, I know he existed, but we didn't really talk because of the age gap. Although, his mother was really good to us. She used to babysit my siblings and I."

"Oh, yes, your siblings! So, how are Maddi and Manuel?"

"They're fine. Please, let's keep this brief. I have to get back to gathering sponsors and helping Elias in the Arena." The Victor didn't seem much like he wanted to talk, only putting up with the interview to keep himself out of trouble.

"Of course! You've really been working hard for him, haven't you?"

"Definitely. I want District Eleven to succeed. I want him to get back to his family."

"Did you mentor Tierra?" Caesar asked. "She was his cousin!"

"Yes. I mentor every year because District 11 doesn't have many Victors." He crossed his arms and scowled.

"It seems like the Capitol just can't get enough of Elias and your family!"

Donavan had nothing but pain in his eyes. "Guess not."

Caesar asked him a couple more brief questions before the final question.

"You can send him a sponsor note saying whatever you want, no? Any ideas as to what you might say?"

"He knows what to do. He's a smart kid. He has a real chance."

"Very good, thank you for being here with me! Go get him that gold now!" Donavan shook Caesar's hand and quickly went back to the mentor room.

"There you have it, the Final Eight Interviews! Good luck to all eight tributes! And, may the odds be ever in your favor! Now, back to the live feed!"

The camera switched to a view of the tributes.

Whimsy was in the Shrine of the Silver Monkey. Bellona was down on the lower level of the pit. Ezie and Tempest were together, by the pond. Torque and Beo were still where they'd left Static at the Pit. Hartwin was in the Dark Woods, wandering quietly and making a gameplan. Elias was in the Dark Woods as well, oblivious to the fact that Hartwin is also there. Elias was walking around blindly, unsure where to go or what to do next.

The sun started to rise as the ninth night turned to the tenth day.

The tributes had no idea they were in for much more pain and suffering before one is crowned the Victor.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Almost 6500 isn't TOO bad a word count for this kind of thing, is it? I think they got longer as they went, sorry about that if your tribute was featured early (Dreamer and Legend :( ) but I figured that we'd be getting submitted tribute POVs anyways and I didn't want to overload. I hope you'll forgive me. Anyways, I hope that you liked these Final 8 Interviews! I'm really going to pick up the pace so I can get this story wrapped up before school starts.**_

 _ **Also, if anyone's wondering or interested, my next partial is in the works! The working title is Traveller and it'll be about the 61**_ _ **st**_ _ **Games. So get those cogs turning about what kind of character(s) you'd wanna send!**_

 _ **Alright, this is long overdue, but the prices are now going to be bumped up big time! Mostly because inflation.**_

 _ **Prices:**_

 _ **Battery (for flashlight/lanterns): 20**_

 _ **Small Canteen (Empty): 25**_

 _ **Large Canteen (empty): 30**_

 _ **Bandages: 50**_

 _ **Blanket: 50**_

 _ **Compass: 55**_

 _ **Simple foods (bags of jerky, crackers, or dried fruit): 55**_

 _ **Pillow: 55**_

 _ **Socks/shoes/shirts/extra articles of clothing: 55**_

 _ **Iodine (to disinfect water): 60**_

 _ **Basic First-Aid Kit: 60**_

 _ **Functioning Flashlight: 70**_

 _ **Rope: 80**_

 _ **Small Canteen (with water): 90**_

 _ **Well-functioning Lantern: 95**_

 _ **Matches: 95**_

 _ **Large Canteen (with water): 105**_

 _ **Night-vision goggles: 110**_

 _ **Functioning Sleeping Bag: 110**_

 _ **Knife: 130**_

 _ **High-Quality Food (bread from a District, meat, broth/soup): 140**_

 _ **Tribute's Favorite Capitol Meal: 150**_

 _ **Medicine: 200**_

 _ **Complex First-Aid Kit: 210**_

 _ **Tribute's weapon of choice: 300**_

 _ **Arena Map: 500**_

 _ **Yay for expensive shit!**_

 _ **Scores:**_

 _ **aceswims: 30  
AKLNxStories: 85  
Alecxias: 2  
AllHailTheNerdiness: 175  
AmericanPi: 221  
Apollo's Slytherpuff Daughter: 113  
Becksheart: 4  
bLizzieard: 60  
bobothebear: 14  
calebbeers21: 6  
Cass: 154  
Cloe: 270  
Coolgal02: 61  
CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean: 110  
Darkflame324: 10  
DaughterOfTigris: 135  
david12341: 235  
deathless. smile: 15  
District7axemurder: 15  
Dreamer: 1295  
dreams and desperation: 120  
Emrys Holmes: 98  
TheEngineeringGames: 335  
epictomguy: 24  
XxXFangirlonlineXxX: 32  
Feniks16: 10  
Fire'sCatching: 5  
GalacticCoach: 59  
Golden Moon Huntress: 199  
goldie031: 189  
hopefuldreamer1991: 189  
Jess: 718  
Jeptwin: 2  
judmud: 4  
Kate: 823  
Lady Lysa Arryn: 127  
Legend: 654  
Littlefoot876: 10  
Little Knight Mik: 150  
Master Maedhros: 10  
MissVolturiKingsfan: 10  
Mystical Pine Forest: 30  
Nrrrd-Grrrl-Meg: 4  
OncerTillTheEnd: 4  
xxPeppermintxx109: 159  
Platrium: 249  
Programming: 7  
TheReaper94: 2  
rosecatforever: 220  
Rosemarie Benson: 12  
ShunKazamis-Girl: 26  
Silverdust64: 10  
Singlewave: 15  
stop-pulling-on-mariazell: 30  
Sparky She-Demon: 14  
tracelyn: 75  
TyeTheLurker (Guest): 65  
VeneratedArt: 125  
the victor of panem: 71  
We're All Okay: 71  
W. R. Winters: 316  
Xechaste: 4  
youngpatriot: 44**_


	27. Hindsight and the Statue

_The tenth day_

-Elias's POV-

I'm still lying on the ground, shaking. Even though the room I'm in is dark and muggy, the stone floor is nothing but hard and cold. It's dark in here and I have to keep the torch I have burning, because I have no idea if there's any flint around.

On the bright side, this muggy, moss and vine-infested room is full of edible plants. I'm currently doing alright on food, I got some from a sponsor, so I feel energized, much better than I would have eating nothing but the edible plants that litter the floor. But, it's nice to know that if I'm robbed or run out of supplies here, that I'll at least have something to survive off of. If my last thermos runs out before I can get to the water source I know is somewhere near here (or, well, think), I can improvise and try to use the plants to keep hydrated enough to keep going. Plants have water in them, after all, even if it's not very much.

It was my plan to find water that killed Trekker. It was my plan that killed Sequoia. They're gone because of _me_. Don't think I don't know that it wasn't my fucking fault. I was the one that found that tunnel, in the room with the vipers. I was the one that suggested we look for a key by breaking pots. I was the one that let her do it, not even thinking there could be anything in those stupid pots except for what we were looking for. How could I have been so goddamn stupid!? It's my fault she's dead. If I hadn't been so obsessed with solidifying the map of the Arena that was forming inside my head. If only I'd kept my mouth shut.

I can say if only as long as I want, but hindsight is still 20/20. No matter what I do, I can't just go back in time and change the fact that she's dead. It was all because of me.

I heard some of her story. I'm pretty sure she and Trekker talked much more than I ever heard, considering the first few nights here I felt safe with my allies and got some real shut-eye. I long for a good night's sleep. I long for a bed to sleep on. I've been using the extra T-Shirt I got from a sponsor as a make-shift pillow, but that doesn't even come close to the real thing.

Anyways, that was a tangent. I tend to go off on those sometimes. My point is that I'm sure Trekker and Sequoia were closer to each other than I was to either of them. They just seemed to understand each other. They were older, they had more experiences than I did. They experienced darkness unlike I ever had, or at least, that was how it seemed. I just didn't understand, I didn't have the emotional capacity that either of them did.

Now I've experienced the pain of ten different lifetimes, all in a matter of days.

I heard some of their stories, though. Not the glitzy Capitol-style, the real, raw details. I couldn't imagine enduring some of the things they have. I don't have the emotional depth of Trekker, who felt everything so deeply. I don't have the strength or work ethic of Sequoia, who worked until her muscles were sore every day to provide for her family. I wouldn't call my life before the Games easy, exactly, but it was nothing like theirs. I could never understand them fully.

Now I like to think I've seen a new kind of darkness. A kind that few people understand. An understanding shared by my removed cousin Donavan. An understanding that is shared by the other seven tributes that remain here.

I never meant for Sequoia to die. I tried my best to save her using what I knew, but it was pointless. I couldn't do anything. Trekker was hysterical, so I kept trying, but I knew from the start she was a goner. I went into strategic mode. I knew that she was going to die, and immediately switched my focus to making sure that Trekker and I stayed alive as long as we could. He was destroyed, but I had to get him to keep going so we could both escape alive.

Sometimes I wish I had a bigger heart. I know that we would have been in trouble if both of us were hysterically panicking, but at least I would know what it's like to feel so strongly. I never got a proper time to mourn her like Trekker did. I had to stay focused on business from the moment her cannon cracked on. I had to stay rational, for Trekker's sake and mine. But I find myself wishing that my heart was big enough that I would have at least cried for her. It took days and days of pure shock before it really sunk in that she was really, truly gone and never coming back. And by then, it was too late to mourn.

I caused Trekker's death, too. I was the one that mapped our route, I was the one that ran us right into the tributes from Five. I was the one that escaped, thinking he was behind me. I still don't know how he died. I might have unknowingly blown up my own fucking _ally_! It was just so chaotic. There was a lot of noise and chaos after the bomb exploded. I shouted to him to see if he was behind me, and I heard him respond to me. I threw that last bomb with the assumption that he was right on my tail, he'd follow me into the tunnel and the bomb would damage the Five tributes.

Nothing went according to plan. My plan failed. Trekker was lost and by the time I realized, it was too late to turn back. He was dead, his head was cracked open, maybe by one of the tributes, maybe by the explosion, I would never know. I don't think I ever want to know.

Two deserving tributes died, and I'm still here. Two tributes with friends and family back home that they loved and cared about. That loved and cared about them. Two tributes like my cousin Tierra, who was assertive and loud, and strong and tough, and wiped out on the first day, to be forgotten forever by anyone who didn't know her for the person she was. Two tributes like my third cousin Krissa, who had heart and spirit, who wanted to see their siblings be happy and get married and grow old with them, who would have done anything to be with them, who had hopes and dreams that were crushed by the Games.

Statistically, there's no way I should be here.

That's what they all said about Beetee Latier, too, in his Games. He wasn't strong or fast, but he was smart, and through his creative wits he took the title. I can only hope to do the same. Statistics in their very nature are guesses, they're never set in stone. Though they can be very close to accurate through mathematics, they can never be exact. There's always going to be a chance, as slim as it is, that I can win against four trained Careers, one witty wildcard, and two outer District hulks, one of which seems to have claimed multiple victims ruthlessly. It's a slim chance, but it's still a chance all the same. And, even if I have the smallest chance in the world of getting home, I want to do it.

Look at Gio Piccozzi. (I know, you're probably sick of hearing about the thirty-sixth Games, what a coincidence how it ties in so much, it's almost like these Games have some kind of crazy special significance tied in with these ones, almost as if they're stories written by the same author or something. But just stay with me.) He was in the Arena with some of the strongest Careers in Games history, a hulking volunteer from District Ten, and multiple outer-District powerhouses that were determined to win. And somehow, he made it out. Thanks to his ally's help and his sheer determination to keep living.

I feel like Gio. I banked on my allies and now that they've both died in my place, I can't help feeling like I don't deserve to get here.

I just have to keep reminding myself that this mindset will only hurt me later on. I have to keep reminding myself that I deserve to be here. This is the Hunger Games, after all, and I knew from the very beginning that only one makes it out. I knew that I would have to lose my allies to win, that to win I'd have to lose Trekker, and Sequoia, and Amy too.

Amy, the poor girl. Her allies really seemed to give her strength, and they were too ambitious. Elias felt horrible. Amy was his age. Lindsay and Isa were both his age too. They were all doomed from the beginning.

I'm not only the youngest one left, but I'm also from the poorest District left. I'm the smallest, the most impoverished, and the weakest physically. All I can do is rely on my brains to try and get me through this, just like I was banking on from the start.

I think I have a chance, too. I just have to keep being where other tributes aren't. Obviously there's someone out there, someone with money in the Capitol, that thinks I'm worth it. And if they think I'm worth it, so do I. I'll do my very best to prove that they didn't spend their money in vain.

I wasn't all too surprised when it was Static's face I saw in the sky last night. I was hoping, of course, that it would be one of the big guns, because the more of those that are out of my way, the better. I was hoping that it would be a Career, because I figured I could take Static in a fight if it came down to that. She would be the only one left I thought I could have taken. But, it was no surprised that she died. I wonder how Torque took it.

Part of me is glad that she's dead. Let the bastard feel how I felt when I lost my allies. It's the worst feeling. It's this pit of grief that sits in your stomach. No matter how much you cry, it's always there, threatening tears at any second. No matter how much you grieve, it's never enough. The pain doesn't fade.

 _Serves you right for taking my ally away_ , I think. _I hope you suffered like I did. I hope you grieved like I did you bastard._

I know the thoughts aren't good or healthy, but maybe in the Games they are. The Games twists things, after all, turns worlds upside down, turns thoughts into demons and people into savages. It's the nature of the beast, really, destroying us and everything we are until only one remains. I don't try to stop thinking them because of that. I know that if I want to win, there are going to be aspects of my personality that I'm going to have to surrender or change. I'm alright with that, ultimately, as long as I survive through it.

I don't want to die. The thought of dying so young, even dying at all, is terrifying. How can someone just… Be gone? I've seen it around me multiple times. I've felt it multiple times. Tierra's own home District completely forgot about her and her District partner Reed as soon as they died in the bloodbath. Reed was a year younger than me. Nobody in my class remembered either of their names, but I did. Tierra was my cousin. She died so early, and she was my cousin. I would never forget her.

I still have so much to give. I have so much I want to put out there. I can't let my story end here.

I eventually make myself sit up, knowing that I spent all night awake and would probably continue to do so until I physically pass out from exhaustion. I have to stay awake and alert, as many of the tributes would do their hunting in the daytime. I'm already so small and weak, with nothing but a knife to defend myself up close. The bombs are good for long distance, but if a battle happens in the spur of the moment, all I'll have on my opponent is the element of surprise.

I always have to be ready.

That morning, I reluctantly finish off the last sip of water in my sponsor-provided thermos. I know that there's a water source near here, but it's so easy to get disoriented and lost in this room. Probably purposely done by the Gamemakers, to make this all the more challenging. I feel frustrated that I can't find this stupid waterfall, I know it's here, or, at least, I'm pretty sure. But now I have absolutely no idea where I am.

I pick up the dim torch and get back up on my feet. It's going to be another long, long day.

 _One foot in front of the other, Elias_ , I think to myself, walking slowly forward. It takes a while for me to work up to a normal pace as opposed to an exhausted trudge. These past ten days have been killer. Literally, in the sick way, but also sleep-wise. I'm so exhausted I'm starting to feel light-headed and nauseous. That's never a good sign.

I walk for what feels like forever, frequently taking breaks to breathe and stretch and crack my knuckles. Every few steps I find myself yawning. I've never felt so horribly sleep-deprived in my entire life. It's as if my eyes are clouded over, even after rubbing the sand out of them, as if everything is happening in slow motion.

I don't really wake up until I see a light opening on the far wall. That gets me excited. This has to be the waterfall.

I pick up the pace, quickly moving towards what has to be the water source. The closer I get, the louder I can hear the rushing water. I reach the opening and almost gasp.

The sight is amazing. The waterfall is crystal clear, and flows calmly into the luminescent crystal pond. The scene is calm, and peaceful. The sound of the rushing water is refreshing and calming. The room is bright and the sun peeping through the hole in the ceiling feels warm on my skin.

The moment of peace is shattered quickly, though, as I feel an immense pain in my stomach. I fumble for my knife as my legs start to shake, realizing I've been attacked. I charge towards the girl who threw the knife, trying to disarm her with a swift shot to the wrist. It barely does anything, though, and before I know it my legs give out on me. I can feel my heart pounding as I gasp for air.

A quick explosion of pain through my back sends the world from a blur of colors to nothing but a white flash.

~.~.

-Hartwin's POV-

A cannon booms that afternoon as I'm chewing on some leaves. I ran out of food a couple days ago, and since then I've been thanking my lucky stars for what little plant knowledge I was able to glean during Training.

Even if I didn't know what these plants and mosses were, I probably would have become desperate and eaten them eventually anyways. Anything but starving to death. Anything.

The plants are nowhere near real sustenance. They taste horrible and frankly at this point it's almost like they're just pretend food. Something to trick my stomach into thinking that it's eating but in reality, it's not getting anything it needs. They're keeping me alive, true, but I wish there was some kind of meat I could eat here too. I've seen a couple of insects crawling around, but so far haven't been brave enough to try any of them. It's dark here, and even if they look like the kind of bugs that the farm dogs would eat, the kind that Mia constantly dared me to eat until that day when Court shut her up by eating one, much to Mia's horror and amazement, I can't be sure it's the same kind. And, quite frankly, I don't want my cause of death to be a poisonous bug if I could control it. However, each day that went by without any sustenance, the bugs that crawl around on the floor become more and more tempting. That's a thought I never thought I'd think, much less admit to, like, four strangers from the past that are reading my inner thoughts.

I'm still not biting _quite_ yet, though. I need to hold out as long as I can on this, at least a day or two more.

I've spent pretty much the entire ten days in this muggy, room. I have a thermos that I've been rationing tightly and occasionally refilling in the darkness of the night. I found a good hiding spot that allows me to remain largely unseen, but close enough to the pond that I can still make my way there if I need to.

The only major thing I've done since getting here was kill the boy from District 1. If I had been faster, dammit, if I hadn't looked into her eyes, I would have killed his District partner before she made a noise. Then there'd be one less person in my way to getting back home to my family and friends. Court and Mia could finish school. I could have my own place. I could still help out at the ranch, too. I can still help Mia learn about riding. I can still ride to town with Leary to get groceries for the family.

I really miss Leary. Maybe it's absurd that the person I arguably miss more than anyone isn't even related to me by blood. I love my family, very very much, and I love Mona too, a lot, but I can't get Leary out of my thoughts. It's probably silly, that the person I miss most is someone who barely knows anything about me. It's probably outrageous that the person I miss more than anyone is someone that doesn't even know… Doesn't even know my birthday. No, wait, he does know my birthday. He was there when we celebrated with my family. He was really excited that we got a cake. His eyes lit up and he had this goofy grin on the whole time. Well, even goofier than usual, I mean. But it wasn't, like, a weird goofy or anything, it was a cute goofy. A heartwarmingly adorable goofy.

Even so, it's probably ridiculous that the person I miss more than anything isn't my parent, or my sister, or even my best friend, who knows things about me I haven't told anyone else. No, it's that goober. The one that knows nothing about my story, but still values me as a person for some reason. He gets so excited when he talks about the town in which he grew up. He was an orphan there, and it sounds like a horrible, ugly, dusty old place that treated him horribly. But to him, it was home. He loved that place. Always said that one of these days, he and I would set out early in the morning, ride all the way there, where he'd show me everything: from the old abandoned building that was used as a pawn shop to the old bakery with the best sugar cookies he had ever tasted (and the only sugar cookies he had ever tasted), and the orphanage where he grew up… Every part of it that Leary talked about, as if it were some kind of fairytale land, instead of the ugly, poor pigsty it probably was and is.

His stories were endearing, though. He's so damn smart, that one. If he lived somewhere like District Three, he'd be one of those really smart guys you'd see on television that got really rich from some genius idea they had and made all sorts of people say "Wow, I wish I was as smart as that guy." Unfortunately, though, he wasn't from Three. He was from Ten. So, instead of being a super rich guy on television, he was a shit-scooper.

See, I know that I could never be anything other than a shit-scooping, egg-collecting, horse-riding rancher. I'm not really smart or social enough for that. I'm not built for it. I'm built to be a rancher, just like my father, just like my sister Court. I'm meant to be there. I could never do any of that stuff, no matter where I happened to be from. But Leary could, if he only had the chance. It sucks that he was born there. He belongs somewhere better.

Leary just has a way with the animals, though. Even though he's not like the smart guys on television, he's still a good rancher. The cows are gentle with him, even though they know he's going to milk them and they're not going to like it. The horses love him. The dogs lay at his feet. The chickens aren't his biggest fans, though. The first time he went in to collect eggs they chased him out in a whirlwind of feathers and angry clucking. Leary was a good sport about it, though. He's a good sport about everything, even when he probably shouldn't be.

I miss my sisters too, of course. I miss Court and her quiet nature. Even though she's tall and stocky like me, she's still so quiet that sometimes she would spook Mom when she finally did speak because Mom had no idea she was there. Mom's usually fixated on one thing at a time, and doesn't like to multitask if she can control it. I can only hope she's not fixated on me in here. Because, eventually, it's going to get to the point where she really doesn't like what she sees.

I don't doubt that work on the ranch has continued just as normal. My father would put Leary to work, even Court, send Mia off with one of them, just to keep them from watching, and avoid it himself. I really don't blame him for it. I wouldn't want to watch Leary in here, or Court or Mona. I wouldn't want to see what the Arena did to them. It only does bad things.

I hope my family understands that I have to do what I have to do. I have one kill so far, but it should have been two, maybe even the whole Career alliance. I guess I figured that I'd taken a big enough risk for the day and was lucky to get away with my life after killing one Career. It could have been more, but I suppose sometimes it's better safe than sorry. If I want to get back home to them, I'm going to have to keep up the streak. I'm going to have to keep killing until none are left but me.

It's not going to be easy, of course. I wouldn't expect it to. But it's not impossible. I've got a chance at this, a really good chance. I'm used to hard work, and I'm going to keep on working hard. That's the McCoy way, after all.

I don't spend too much time pondering who the cannon may have been shot for. I really don't like to think very much, if I can help it. Overcomplicating things just makes my head spin and leaves me confused. As much as I can, I like to keep it simple.

If only life was simple.

If life was simple, I wouldn't be here. Or, if I still was, it would be much more straightforward. I would have my one-on-one fights back-to-back-to-back until I was the only one left. I wouldn't have to keep moving around, hiding and trying to be strategic, it would just be simple, quick fights and I could wipe them out one-by-one.

If life was simple, I wouldn't waste so much time thinking about that orphan boy with the smile that can bring the sun out from behind storm clouds. I wouldn't be so enamored with someone that probably didn't even think I liked him, let alone… Felt like this. Or, if life was simple, I would have just been able to tell him honestly, and he'd give an honest answer, and then in a blink I'd be over it and move on.

Life isn't so simple, though. I'm a simple guy in this big, complex world. It's more than a little intimidating, that's for sure. I wasn't made to be here, constantly thinking, constantly worrying, constantly being in danger of being stabbed in the back by surprise. That's just not how I run. But, I would definitely rather be in here than have to be on the outside, watching someone I care about in here. I would much rather be here than be forced to watch Leary, or Court, or Mona suffer like this and know that there would be nothing I could do to help them. I would rather take that pain.

I have a lot of love in me, but I'm shit at expressing it. I just clam up every time someone says that they love me. I love them too, usually, and I want to tell them, but I always freeze. It's totally stupid most of the time, it's my Mom, of course I love her, my sisters, of course I love them, but even when it's family I still struggle. I have no idea why that is. It's as simple as saying, "I love you too." Just four syllables that I can't seem to get out without it sounding totally awkward and insincere. Even when I mean it, it still sounds insincere just because I'm so awkward about it. I try to show my love through doing things, but sometimes words can be just as important as actions. Either way, it's frustrating as hell. Now that I'm here, at risk of death, I wish I'd told them I loved them so much more. I wish I told my Mom I loved her every day as I was going out to do my rounds. I wish I told my Dad I loved him every night before we retired to bed. I wish I told my sisters I loved them every chance I could have.

Hindsight, I guess. I wish I hadn't been so awkward and stupid. Now the words are in my heart, a thousand times in my heart, swirling around and around. I told them before I left them, of course, but that wasn't enough for me. I wasn't brave enough to be honest with Leary. Hell, I haven't even been honest with my family yet about that either. Mona's the only one that knows. I wish I'd let her know more how much I cared. We were always really close, but we were never really affectionate and gushy with each other. We enjoyed our time together, and even though I really cared I didn't bring it up much. Now I wish I had. She was my rock through really tough times. She was the anchor in life's rough waters. She was a lot more to me than I treated her. I'm just lucky that she's so similar to me. She understands that I'm shit at saying those kinds of things out loud because she's the same way. That's just one of the many ways in which Mona Lee Woods understands me better than anyone else.

Before the cannon went off, I remember that I saw a figure darting towards the pond. I thought it was a rat, at first, but it must have been a tribute. A tribute that died as soon as they entered the room. I know that there's still at least one Career hiding out there.

Looking for another way into the pond, I notice a tunnel in the wall. It's square and though it's dark, I have to hope that it's another entryway to the pond. Maybe a sneakier way of getting there.

I look around to make sure nobody's on my tail, then take a deep breath and crawl into the tunnel.

I'm taking a risk, but at this point, a risk may just be what I need to survive.

~.~.

-Whimsy's POV-

Final eight.

I can't believe I'm here. Maybe that's a dumb thought to have. I mean, I volunteered for this. If I didn't think I would win, I wouldn't have volunteered, right? I mean, I went into it thinking I could win for sure. But then I realized that the tributes around me were much stronger and more bloodthirsty than I was. There was stiff competition, and in the face of adversity, my confidence was stripped away. Suddenly it was a fight just to be good enough. I talked about getting home, but I never really believed that I could.

I figured that I would eventually fall, where people that put in effort like Bellona would take the title because they wanted it more.

No more.

I'm in the final eight. Sure, there are other Careers left to go, and some threats that I don't even want to think about, but if I keep on believing I don't have a chance, then I'm definitely not going to have one. Alma didn't die for me to throw it all away.

The thought that it could have been me there in the pit that day is still echoing in the back of my mind. I was the one that saw Static. I launched a spear at her, but she took off running. I followed close behind her. But I was lucky. I was lucky that I saw the two figures there before they noticed me. I was lucky that I noticed them and chose to run away.

It could have been me, suffering and screaming like she did.

The threat is still far too near for comfort.

I didn't stick around to see how Static died, but somehow I think I'm glad I didn't. The screaming was enough for me. I couldn't have taken them both by myself. I need to remain aware, but more importantly, I need to get as far away from those two as I can.

The problem is going to be predicting where they go. They're in the pit, they could go anywhere. They could go up to the Shrine I'm in, or down to where Bellona is.

I can't imagine them finding Bellona. I hate the very thought. If it was anything like them finding Static, even someone strong and mighty like Bellona will crack. If they find Tempest and Ezie, the power duo could easily be taken down. Those two are so close, that once one of them is being tortured, the other will be doomed. The thought of that happening to Ezie… Hurts. After all, when I was knocked down, he was the only one that helped me. When I was mourning, he was the only one that sat with me. When I was hurting, he was the only one that helped to mend me. And when I was in danger, he was the one to save me. The thought of him having to suffer like that is sickening.

At the same time, though, I know that I can't save anyone anymore. I have to keep ticking them down like flies, no matter who they are. Even if they were once my ally.

Even if I still consider them a friend.

A cannon boomed earlier this afternoon, which means that now we're officially down to seven. I feel like I'm still in for a world of pain before this is over. After all, these are the people I know. People I've talked to. People who have been so kind as to tell me pieces and parts of their stories. People that I told some of mine.

No, I can't think like that. They're nothing to me now but obstacles in the way of my Victory. They're nothing but opponents, people that want to kill me. If I don't want to die, I'll have to kill them.

Alma didn't die for me to give up my chance. I can still get home. I still have a lot to do once I get there. I have to see my baby sister grow up. I have to keep Amaze from falling to the temptations of the Games. And, most importantly, I have to get back and find an adorable Capitol girlfriend for Glow!

Thinking about my friends back home makes me laugh. I can only imagine what stupid things they said about me in their interviews on my behalf. It was probably true, whatever it was. I've had plenty of interesting experiences in my lifetime, that's for sure. And I'm not ready for that to end now. I'm not ready to never laugh again, never smile again. I'm not ready for that yet. I have to grow old with my friends and laugh about some young whippersnapper while we're rocking on our rocking chairs and knitting sweaters or some shit. I want to tell my grandchildren wild and whimsical stories about my life, the crazy experiences I've had and be thankful that I got to live them.

I know that in order to win, I'm going to want to be as far away from Beo and whoever he's with as possible. I just need to figure out where they went.

When I check the pit, it's empty. That means that they're on the move.

That could be both good and bad.

I wasn't paying much attention to the set-up of the Arena, but now I wish I had. Now I wish I knew enough to be able to predict where they would be. The last thing I want is to run into them.

My thoughts are interrupted when I see a face appear, the face of someone climbing out of the tunnel that leads to this room from the Dark Woods. I immediately hide behind the statue, crouching behind the pedestal and waiting for him to surface.

My heart pounds in my chest.

This is my chance. This is my chance to have revenge. I can't afford to fuck this up. I have to have revenge. I can't let him kill both of us.

Hartwin isn't even all the way out of the tunnel before I jump out and hurl my spear at him with all my might. It's probably the most powerful, agile, efficient throw I've ever done in all my entire life. Because, unlike all those other ones, this throw has purpose. Unlike the others, which were mostly just one to show off or to advance in the ranks, to teach or to demonstrate technique, to prove my credibility, to keep surviving, this one was thrown to kill. There is no other purpose than that. It was thrown to kill, to avenge my friend who was taken from me without a fair fight. It hits him right in the heart.

In the seconds before the light leaves his eyes, he stumbles towards me, knife in hand. I run at him, grabbing the spear handle kicking him in the stomach to rip the weapon out.

Maybe the person who killed my best friend in the Arena deserves a slower, more drawn-out death, but I don't want to risk him getting away. He's definitely going to feel sorry for what he did.

Blood gushes out of Hartwin's wound his face still in an expression of shock. He doesn't scream, unfortunately, but he's gasping as he waves the knife around, trying to hit me.

"District One will have a Victor this year!" I have to make sure he knows that I'm going to take the title. He's going to be sorry he ever messed with District One, with Alma, with me. He doesn't even say anything as his shaky breath slows, blood pouring out of his wound and making a sticky, crimson puddle on the floor.

My heart pounds and my limbs shake, but I have to make sure he's dead before I leave. I can't afford any risk that he might still be alive.

I drive my spear down again, this time it pierces straight through his forehead. The expression of pained shock is frozen on his face as his skull cracks under the tip of my spear, bits of brain matter splattering the floor and the weapon.

Finally, his cannon goes off. It feels like forever, but it goes off. I've gotten my revenge.

I'm still shaking, staring at the damage I just caused. I stare at the body on the floor, the juices and brain matter pouring out of his open skull. My stomach turns, but all I can do is stand there, blood dripping off the tip of my spear and dropping on the ground, staring at what I've done.

I didn't think I'd ever actually get revenge. That's something that only happens in movies, isn't it? I guess I didn't ever imagine that I had a chance at not only meeting Hartwin again, but also beating him in a fight. I thought I'd freeze up. I didn't, though. I killed him. I killed him just like I killed Isa. And Winchester. I killed them all. Just like Hartwin killed Alma, and Ezie killed Branden. It's just a cycle. We're all guilty. Nobody is safe. Nobody is innocent. Nobody can truly escape with their wits. No Victor is the same person they were before they stepped foot in that Arena. If only those people that wanted to Volunteer knew that. If only I'd known that before I volunteered to come here.

I don't realize I'm crying until a tear hits the floor, in the same puddle of blood that was dripping off my sword. I don't try to stop the tears, though. I can afford a little bit of time grieving. Three lives like Alma's are gone because of me. And for me to win, that count is only going to have to increase.

Through my tears, I look at the statue. The statue, a constant in the chaos. Something that, through all the destruction and chaos, stays constant. I expect it to be comforting, but when I look up at it now, I see it through new eyes.

That smug little monkey has now witnessed me killing two tributes in this very room. He knows that I did what I had to. He watched me end two lives and yet he still sits up here, that stupid smirk on his face. High up on his throne. The monkey doesn't have to kill. He doesn't have to fight. He can just sit there, up so high, and watch all of us suffer. He doesn't have to worry about anything. He doesn't have to feel the pain of loss. He doesn't have to go through any of this. And he's not sorry. Not one bit sorry.

That monkey may remain constant, but maybe that's not a good thing. That stupid statue doesn't have to care about what happens in his room. It's not his problem. It's his room, but no blood is on his hands. It's on mine.

Suddenly, instead of seeing a curious friend, companion, I see a smug overlord, watching these events unfold and doing nothing to stop him, laughing at the damage, glad that it isn't him that's having his humanity stripped away.

Through my tears, I feel a rush of anger overpower me. My quiet tears turn to hyperventilating sobs, my body shakes. I drop my spear, which hits the floor with a clatter. My teeth clench and I shake, clenching my fist until my fingernails dig into my palms.

Suddenly, with a strained sob, I lunge across the room, grabbing the monkey and throwing it on the ground as hard as I can. The statue hits the ground, where it explodes into pieces. It will no longer be able to sit there and watch us be reduced to nothing.

I'm still shaking as I stomp on the pieces of the statue I once lunged to save. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! I want it to disappear, become nothing. I thought the statue was my friend, but it was just fucking me over again and again and I didn't even realize!

I destroy the statue, I leave it broken and fractured, I leave it with the satisfaction of knowing that it's gone and I destroyed it.

After stepping back, seeing Hartwin's body on the floor, the pieces of the statue beside it, I know that I can't stand to stay there anymore. I can't stand to be there, surrounded by the remnants of the lives that have been taken, the pieces of the monkey littering the floor.

I have to get out of here. I have to run. I have to leave and never look back. I can't be here anymore, I can't stand it I can't take it I can't do it.

I turn around and run from there, as fast as I can, back through the tunnel that will lead me back to the Dark Woods.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: RIP to Elias and Hartwin! It took me forever to plan out who would be the next to die, that's for sure. Elias was a joy to write and I'm so glad I got to give him a POV before he died. Thank you so much for him, Hope, and for all your support and reviews on this story! It's always such a pleasure to bring your OCs to life! And Kate, thank you bunches for Hartwin! I loved him from the start and was always excited to write for him. I'm sorry we didn't get to see more of him due to his quiet nature, but I hope you liked this look into his mind!**_

 _ **And, I hope you liked this chapter! I officially have this story mostly planned to the final two, but sponsor things might change placements so don't be afraid to sponsor! Especially in the Victor decision, sponsoring could definitely change things.**_

 _ **So, if you haven't guessed, the story's going to pick up in intensity towards the end. It's looking like I have about seven chapters of this story left, counting Victory stuff, and they're hopefully going to be some of the most emotional, best stuff yet! I can't wait and thank you all for your support, woo hoo!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Did I forget to do one last chapter? Don't answer that, I'm gonna check. Oh, goddammit. Oh well, my bad. Here's one for this chapter. Do you think Yin is going to live when all of this is over now that we're partly through the Games? These are starting to get lame, lol, next chapter I'll have to make you guys come up with some.**_

 _ **Anyways, I'm really going to try and get this done before the end of August, so stay tuned for more. Thanks so much to everyone that's so supportive of this story, love you all! :)**_


	28. Kyrie Eleison

_The tenth night_

-Bellona's POV-

The bottom of the pit is a dark place.

Even with a flashlight, it's just plain creepy.

The first room I went into was a room with pieces of broken pots everywhere. I have no idea what happened in here, but I'm not sure I want to know. No tribute is in this room, though, like I hoped they would. Connected to that room was a room full of objects that looked old. A highlight in the room was a weapon contained in a glass case. If I didn't have anything to fight with, I would have tried to get it out. Luckily for me, I have a nice sword, old reliable. That and my guts will carry me through. My raw power, sheer force, unwavering determination. Those things will bring me through. I've played the game better than anyone else.

Whimsy is not a worry. Separating from her is strategic. She'll take out as many people as she can up there. Tempest and Ezie are still up there. I have a feeling a bulk of tributes are still there. If Whimsy gets the courage to kill some of those other tributes, she'll get more confident. But, ultimately, I know I can beat her in a fight. If it comes down to us both, I know I'll be able to kill her. I could most likely take Ezie. He's alright, but he's not as fast and agile as I am. Plus, he might not have the balls to take out Tempest anyways.

Tempest is the only one left that really represents strong competition. She's the one that will do what it takes to win, like me. But she's made a fatal mistake. She got too buddy-buddy with them. She played along with them. She let her guard down with them. And that could be her fatal weakness. She would pay the price for that.

I never did. I never fell to anyone. I kept up my walls this entire time. Relationships in the games are equate with death. Fabian had to be mercy-killed by the person who he considered a close friend. It was miserable to watch. Corona's friend Janie, she could have lived. That boy from Ten killed her for no reason other than she was friends with Pontifex. If she'd just kept her distance, she wouldn't have been doomed to death. It wasn't right, you can't make friends in the Games no matter what. I'm determined not to do it. I won't let the other tributes get the best of me like that.

After leaving the room full of artifacts, I went back around and I found the room full of masks. There are all different types of masks, all of them staring at me with hollow eyes. My flashlight doesn't seem like nearly enough light. No tributes were there, though. After that I went to the room full of different pottery. It's a dark room, and I looked all around for tributes, a search that proved futile.

After that, there was only one path left to take that I could see. I went back to the mask room and went down the tunnel.

Maybe I should have turned back once the stench of blood filled my nose. I don't know why I didn't.

The dungeon is dark, really dark. There are torches and flint, but when I light both torches the room becomes even creepier than it was before.

The dim light cast on the walls reveals dark, dry blood stains on the floor. The sight would be repulsive to someone who didn't have a strong stomach. I consider myself to have a high tolerance for gore, and even I was thrown off by it.

In the light of the torch hung on one of the walls, I see carvings in the wall. Letters. Some form words, and others are just random strings of letters. Some of the words make sense, but some are nonsense.

 _ **OCOapek APpHpG oapec apehqbn PGtiGg**_

 _ **wHo IS bEo ?**_

 _ **wHo JACk ?**_

 _ **dArK CAvE CrEAtUrE**_

 _ **PLEASE THE bEAsT**_

 _ **KILL THE PIG**_

 _ **sLIT His THroAT**_

 _ **bAsH HIM IN**_

 _ **JACk MErrIDEw**_

 _ **APQNQghr PALBEPl LdGwZpoan**_

 _ **ealJGHAoe hgBNAP EaGfQpcB**_

 _ **YELLoW circLE**_

 _ **ORANGE crEAMSicLE**_

 _ **JUMPED OVEr tHE MooN**_

 _ **ONcE UpON A TIME**_

 _ **IIII lll IIII lll IIII lll**_

 _ **THE bEAsT**_

 _ **PLEASE**_

 _ **THE bEAST**_

 _ **wHo IS bEo ?**_

 _ **STUPID**_

 _ **UNLOVED**_

 _ **NOT A GENIUS bOy**_

 _ **JACk**_

 _ **CHOIr**_

 _ **C #**_

 _ **STrONG**_

 _ **HUNTEr**_

 _ **sAvE ME**_

 _ **HELP ME**_

 _ **CANNOT**_

 _ **sAvE rEMEMbEr WHO IS THE CrEAtUrE**_

 _ **ME HELP**_

 _ **III lll III lll III lll III lll**_

 ** _isA_**

 ** _ToMEr_**

 ** _AbiGAiL_**

 ** _LiNNEA_**

 ** _LINdsAy_**

 ** _AMy_**

 ** _ZoMbiE_**

 ** _robErt_**

 ** _WiNcHEstEr_**

 ** _SEquoiA_**

 ** _WyAtt_**

 ** _AlMA_**

 ** _TrEkkEr_**

 ** _SiMoN_**

The carvings look like they were done by a child, a child struggling to write correctly. The words are in a hodge podge all over the wall. For a second, I'm tempted to take my sword and carve in the ones he missed, but I prevent myself from doing so.

What could all of this mean? I'm not sure I want to know. I'm sure if I win I'll find out, though.

It's kind of like… A haunted house. They used to have those at the Academy around Halloween. Fabian and Nikolai were orphans that lived at the Academy, so they always got to help with the scares. Fabian always helped the kids our age. They were young, they didn't usually come up with anything good. Nikolai was always stolen by the older kids because he could take the grotesque scenes they came up with. He was always the designated creepy kid. I used to go through those haunted houses with my cousin, Corona. She always used to get creeped out by the grotesque scene set up by the older kids. I would have been terrified if Nikolai wasn't my friend. I always laughed when I saw him though. I was never scared because, to me, he was never a creepy little kid with blood on his face. He was my goofy friend Nikolai trying to be scary. Everyone must have thought I was some kind of badass or something. Fabian knew Nikolai, hell, he lived in the same room as Nikolai and he still pissed his pants every time he went through whatever crazy room the big kids had set up. One year they set the scene for a cannibalistic montage. They had fake guts and blood and everything. Nikolai said later that it was ketchup and noodles, and that he'd eaten so much he thought he would be sick.

Usually one of the top-ranked Academy students had the coveted job of chasing people around with a chainsaw.

Corona always got creeped out. That is, until her best friends got involved. After that she seemed to understand. Then again, Janie wasn't exactly scary. Her District partner made Corona go from laughing to pissing herself in ten seconds, though. I think they put Nikolai on a noose that year or something, I just remember being so concerned about him I barely even noticed the giant hulking guy charging at Corona with a chainsaw. Some cousin I was.

That memory makes me bite back a laugh. That wasn't really the point I was trying to make, but any reminder of home is a good one.

The point I was trying to make was that the scene in front of me looks like something the big kids would make in a haunted house room. Something so creepy, but also so curious. Something that you know you should look away from, but for some reason you just can't.

Except this isn't ketchup and noodles. This isn't a game, some silly Academy thing.

This is real.

This is too real.

This is too disgustingly real.

Before I can crawl into the tunnel, though, the Panem national anthem begins to play and the Capitol seal flashes on the far wall. I try to find the source of the hologram, but I can't. I sit and watch as the faces of the dead appear in the sky.

 _Hartwin McCoy, District 10_

 _Elias Wilder, District 11_

I have to wonder if Whimsy got her revenge for her District partner. Maybe not, though. Maybe he just ran into Ezie and Tempest. After all, those two are still together, as far as I know. And they way they act, almost like Fabian and Reginald, suggests that only death will do them part. Then there's the added factor of Beo. He's a contender too.

I assume that Beo didn't get either of those two because there was a lack of screaming. I imagine that whoever Beo gets will be cracked before they're discarded. I wonder if he'll get the cool cucumber from Five. Everyone wanted to see them crack. He cracked Wyatt, he could crack Torque too.

Before I can start up the tunnel after the Capitol seal disappears, though, something else slides down it.

I blink in surprise. I mean, I'm not mad. I'm certainly not mad! Especially when I open the pot and pull out what's inside.

The smell of gore is soon replaced by the {heavenly smell of my favorite Capitol meal, lasagna.

I am immediately thankful for the meal, and try to ration myself on eating it. The food is just so warm and tastes so good, homemade, unlike the shit I've had to put in my mouth the past ten days. I didn't realize how much I missed prepared food until now. I practically scarf down the meal, knowing that it isn't going to be portable and it wouldn't be much good cold anyways.

The lasagna is just so good. It's my favorite. I savor every bite of it. The sauce makes me think of the shenanigans of Academy-goers back home. I never really got involved in it, but I kind of wish I had. Only a little bit. Not actually _that_ much. Sometimes it's just… Weird being the odd one out. But whatever. I mean, while they're all dicking around, I'm here. I'm serious about what I'm doing and I'm going to come out on top.

 _Stand tall and finish what you were destined to do._

That's what the note says. I know that it's right. I have to keep going, stand tall straight to the finish, and know what I'm destined to do. That's the way it has to go. I really have no other option but victory.

My stomach feels full and for once, I sigh contently. This is exactly what I needed. Sure, warm, prepared food is something small, but it's something I like. Something for me to get home to. Nikolai, my friend, he's something to get back to. Losing two of his best friends in two years is the last thing I want him to go through. He's already plagued with enough nightmares as it is. If I wasn't one hundred percent sure I would win, I never would have accepted the position to volunteer. If I wasn't totally confident in my training, in my discipline, in my self-control, my training, my walls, I wouldn't have volunteered. I came in knowing I can win, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Two deaths in one day isn't so bad. If it continues at this rate, we'll be done with the Games in a matter of a few days. I could get behind that.

After I finish the lasagna, I feel so happily full that I decide to just sleep there for the night. I unroll my sleeping bag and climb in, glad that I got it in the alliance split between Whimsy and I. It's warm and cozy, and it makes sleeping on the stone floor much more doable. After all, this place is abandoned, and I don't anticipate anyone else coming back here for the rest of the Games, especially if everyone's up at ground level.

I allow that thought to give me peace as I close my eyes, yawning and stretching. I feel totally content for the first time since entering the Arena, and for once, a deep, dreamless sleep comes as soon as I close my eyes.

 _Stand tall and finish what you were destined to do._

I will. I will finish this. I will win the Hunger Games.

~.~.

* * *

 _The eleventh day_

-Ezie's POV-

You know that feeling when you are sure about something, one-hundred percent positive, you would bet your life on this thing being exactly how you think- you know it's supposed to go? But then something happens that is totally not what you thought? Some call it the Mandela Effect. Thinking, being positive that one thing is one way, but it's actually another way. Either way, that's exactly how I feel right now. I mean, I would have bet… Some very, _very_ good money that Torque would have died in eighth place. I would have bet my life on Torque being dead by now. That's why it's kind of a shock that Static died in eighth.

Now, I am totally out of my element. I have no idea what's going to happen next. I like to think I'm a pretty good strategist. Let's just say I've always had a talent for predicting things. Call it luck, call it an extremely observant mind, call it whatever you want. Now, though, I'm totally lost. I have no idea what to expect now.

I have to say, I've gotten so used to the routine of knowing everything that was going to happen that this is, in a way, exciting. I haven't been challenged quite like this in a long time. There's a kind of feverish anticipation that comes with not knowing, and I haven't felt like that in a while. Longer than you think.

It's scary, sure. Don't get me wrong on that. But something about it is exciting. After so long of going through the motions, at least I can have a little bit of excitement for I go. Ahem, I mean, if I go. Yes. That's what I meant. I told Tempest I'd give her a fair fight if it came to that. I doubt it will, though. As much as I want to protect her, I can't be here forever. I mean, she's a capable girl. She won't need me forever. I think sometimes she isn't aware of just how independent she is. Yeah, sure, she does that whole "I'm number one, you're number two!" thing, but I don't think she's totally confident in that.

I just have to wonder how Torque is going to change the trajectory of the Games. Lucky bastard managed to stay out of trouble this long. I can only imagine what that means for the rest of us.

So far, Tempest and I have been alright. Killing Elias was pretty simple, considering he seemed exhausted and desperate for water. Someone wiped out Hartwin too, which leaves us with six. There are only two untrained tributes left.

"Do you think this looks alright so far?" Tempest was tying a piece of rope into a trap. She was much better at it than I was. I really, _really_ didn't think I'd need to know how to make a good trap. Now I wish I'd studied up on it more. After all, in the words of some total loser dork I saw on TV once, "Anything is possible." I should have believed him when he said it. I mean, I know that it is, but I guess after so much of the same-old same-old, it's easy to forget.

I had already put a trap there of my own making, but it was… Probably not very effective. Tempest was trying to do better. I mean, I trust her to make a better trap than me. And, in Tempest style, she decided to make it into a competition. I suppose I wouldn't expect anything less from the punk.

I'm starting to doubt we should stay in here too much longer, though. After all, the numbers are dwindling, and staying stagnant like this might not be a good idea. I wish I knew for sure, though. Not knowing is just as annoying as it is exciting.

It doesn't take too long for Tempest to be done with the attempt.

"I can't remember what comes next," she sighs. "So I guess you win."

"Barely," I say flatly, glancing at my pile of rope on the ground. It's more like a placebo trap. It doesn't actually work, but maybe it'll give our opponents a scare.

Tempest's lips spread into a grin, and I couldn't help but smile back. Hey, it's hard to be all Bellona all the time. Sometimes you just have to let it slip, even if it's just a for second.

"I think we should consider moving," I say.

"I'm ready to start ending this," Tempest says. Leave it to her to want to take the offensive. Though the two of us together could cause major damage to any of these tributes. "The faster we end it, the faster we get back to our loved ones."

I keep smiling, just as I've been trained to do. "Yeah," I say out loud.

 _I wish that was true._

Before I can say anything else, though, I hear the familiar beeping of a sponsor parachute.

"Look at that!" Tempest says happily, getting up to retrieve it. A real smile spreads across my face. _Guess some surprises are pleasant_.

I peel a delicious orange while she gets the pot and brings it back. I love the fruit, it's honest to God the best food ever. Plus, they're so fun to eat. Sure, you have to work a bit to get to the good part, but hey, all good things require hard work. Food is no exception. The citrus tastes so sweet and good, and I enjoy every last drop of it.

"Don't you want to see what's inside?" Tempest asks, causing me to look up.

"Yeah, of course. I just figured I'd let you do the menial labor to get it for me, punk. I mean, it's probably for you."

"What makes you say that?" she cocks her head curiously. She seems genuinely surprised that I would give her my vote of confidence. Heh.

I shrug. "I mean, I got these oranges last time." I suck the extra juice off my fingers. "Plus, you're Tempest fucking La Rossa, the biggest punk of them all."

She makes a face. "I was with you until you called me a punk, _punk_."

"Aw, why? You should be honored. I don't use that word lightly."

"What?"

I just give an easy smile. "Do you know what a punk is, punk?"

"What's your definition of a punk?" she seems less defensive now, more curious.

"A punk is someone who doesn't follow the rules. A punk is someone strong that works hard to get what they want. Trust me, punk, it's a compliment."

She just nods slowly. "You're a strange boy, Ezie Bond."

That causes me to laugh. I start laughing and once I start, I don't stop for a while. Just thinking about her saying it makes me laugh again. When I finally collect myself, I just grin up at her and say, "You don't know the half of it." I almost laugh some more, but restrain myself. I don't want her to think I've lost my marbles. Even if I have lost my marbles, I should at least keep up the act. Who even knows anymore? Maybe I've lost all my marbles just like everyone else in this hellscape. If that were the case, I honestly wouldn't be all too surprised.

"So, what's in the pot?" I ask, bringing us back to business.

"Oh, right. Let's see." She takes the top off and looks inside. "What the…"

"Well? What is it?"

"I… That wouldn't make sense." She pulls something very familiar to me out of the pot. As soon as I see it, I lunge at her. She jumps in alarm, but I just take the coat from her, still in disbelief.

"Well, I'm guessing that's yours," she says, laughing a little bit.

"Sorry if I spooked you. I just… Didn't expect this to be here. In fact I wasn't sure if I'd ever see this again." I hug the fabric, reveling in its familiar scent, the feeling of it in my arms again.

"So it's…"

"Yeah, it's my old football jacket." I put it on quickly. It's soft and warm, and I thank whoever the hell is watching out for me. Maybe it's good old reliable Eddie Finch. Or maybe it's one of my long lost relatives, Asher Bond. Who the hell cares? It's here. My coat is here.

"Oh. That's an interesting sponsor item." She seems even more confused, as expected. Hell, she wouldn't believe me if I told her everything about this coat, so why bother trying?

"Yeah. It's like… A comfort object. Remember last year when someone sent that kid from Three the teddy bear?"

"Oh yeah. It seemed to help him. It was cute, the way he stuck the head out so it could see. I mean, it ultimately didn't stop him from going bonkers, but…"

"It's like that. Something that I have that gives me comfort. It reminds me of the good old days. Those brisk, windy autumn days walking back home from the Academy, throwing it on over my training clothes for the walk home."

"Oh." Tempest smiles. "That's nice then. It's cute."

I can feel my ears heating up. "Oh… Thanks." I make a mental note to not take this off unless it's absolutely dire. Not that I was planning on taking it off before. She sits down and starts to eat some breakfast as well, the two of us in silence until I decide to speak up.

"If someone sent you a comfort object, what would you want it to be?" I ask. I'm not sure she'll tell me, after all she had this whole distance thing going for a while and I'm not sure if she's totally over that yet.

"Oh. Um… I don't know. That's a good question."

"Did you bring a token?" I realize that I don't know if she did or not. We've been together for so long, talking, and I never thought to ask her about her token.

"Yeah, I did." She pulls it out of her pocket. "It's the hairpiece I wore with my interview outfit."

"Oh yeah." She looked so pretty that night. I mean, she always looks so pretty. But especially pretty. Plus, she smiled so big. She was just so excited. It was cute. You know, she was having the time of her life. I have to say, I had more fun than I expected for interviews. But nobody on that stage was having as much fun as Tempest. "That's not something from home though. Is there anything else you would want? From home?"

"Well, Lee made me a twine bracelet with beads and seashells once. I just forgot to grab it. I also considered taking a spoon from Tiller's house. Tiller's my best friend, and we always used to eat pistachio ice cream together with these dainty little rich people spoons. He thought about giving me one, but kept forgetting." She laughs, and I smile. She's obviously well-loved back home. I'm glad, she's lucky. I hope she gets back there.

"Cool." My voice takes a teasing tone. "What about your teddy bear? Does the great Tempest La Rossa still sleep with a teddy bear?"

"What?! I do not," she said, crossing her arms. "She's a manatee and her name is Barbara."

I laugh. How adorable is that? "Cute," I say, which causes her cheeks to flush.

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not!" I can't wipe the grin off my face. Barbara the manatee, come on, that's hilarious and adorable! "I'm just saying. Don't worry, punk, you wouldn't be the only Victor that still sleeps with a stuffed animal."

Tempest laughs with her mouth full. "Of course. Pooka the cat."

"Exactly!" I grin. "He was a Career too."

"Yeah, true."

I don't have any stuffed animals anymore. I tried to use them before, some vain attempt to try and ward off some of the horrible nightmares I have, but they didn't work. Nothing works. The only way to avoid having bad dreams is by staying awake. And here, staying awake is always a good thing. It's how I caught Hartwin and saved Whimsy's life. It's how I heard Branden trying to get Tempest to betray us. It's always good to keep an ear open.

"Well, are you ready to go?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says. "Let's do it."

We fill up our thermoses and pack up our things, saying one last emotional goodbye to the warmth and light of the sun and the crisp coolness of the water before we leave the pond.

As soon as we get to the Dark Woods, I start towards the tunnel to the Shrine. It's kind of a wild guess, but I think it's an okay bet. Just in case, though, I start through the tunnel first, her following close behind. It doesn't take too long for us to climb through the tunnel now that we're experienced, energized climbers. When we reach the top, I give a look around and breathe a sigh of relief. No threats here. I climb out and look around.

The room is totally different than I expected. The floor has dark blood stains that I don't recognize. And, most surprisingly, the statue that sat up on the pedestal has been smashed to bits. I can't imagine what happened in this room. The curiosity is there like an itch. Who destroyed Whimsy's precious statue, and why? I have to wonder what happened in here.

"Woah," Tempest says, in wonder.

"Woah is right," I echo.

Just then, from the pit, I hear the echo of a laugh. A laugh I recognize too well. A laugh I'm sure we should stay away from.

"Hear that? Let's go!" Tempest grabs my wrist.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, punk?"

"Yes. I'm positive. Come on!"

"Tempest… He might be dangerous. Like, really, really dangerous. You might not want to go out there… Maybe we should just turn around." We should turn back. Now isn't the time or the place for this.

"Let's just do it. Remember, sooner we end it, the sooner we get home."

"Tempest…"

"Come on. I'm going out there. I'm not going to run away anymore." Oh no, she has that determined edge to her voice. That edge that means I'm never going to convince her otherwise. "Are you coming with me or not?"

I sigh a bit, but if she's going to go, I want to follow her into battle. "Alright. Let's go."

Together, we cross the bridge to the pit, where we're bound to have a tussle with fate.

~.~.

-Torque's POV-

I'm starting to wonder if I did the right thing.

Maybe I should have done something differently…

No Torque. You can't think like that. That's dumb thinking that will only get you killed. And that's the last thing you need. After getting so damn far, after climbing up from the bottom, we're almost on the top. The last thing we need is to be doubting the things of the past now.

Beo is still useful to me, so I haven't killed him yet, even though I've had plenty of opportunities to. When I travelled with her, we didn't do any killing because neither of us had the stomach too. Or, well, not until everything changed. Now, though, Beo and I are taking them out. That's a good thing. The Games are going to go a lot faster with him by my side than they would with me by myself.

Part of me knows that I feel sorry for the guy. He's so pitiable. He has nothing left, he's lost everything. He's pretty much lost his mind, split between two personalities, and forgetting everything about where he came from. Even with everything he did, I don't think he's a bad guy. He's just a sad kid that ended up in this horrible situation. The Games bring out the worst in all of us. I should know.

His antics are fun, too. When he's around, it really feels like this is a game. Now that he trusts me, he's become fairly loyal to me. Or, that's how it seems on the outside. If I keep playing this little loyalty game with him, maybe he'll really start to trust me for real. Then, I'll be able to stab him in the back for real. Just like I was stabbed in the back.

I was actually able to sleep last night, even if it was lightly and only for a little bit. I'm in the final eight, final six now. Beo and I are the only non-Careers left. Sticking with him is really the best strategy. He can take out the big guns, something I would never be able to do, and then when he's done being useful, I can make my move. I just have to pull everyone's strings just right. It seems like a stretch, but if being a puppeteer is what it takes, then so be it. I will do anything to get home, I think I've proven that much to the crowds. Don't let anyone say that I didn't want it with anything in me. I've stayed strong when many other weaker tributes would have cracked. I just have to keep it up, keep on the mask of stone, until there's only one left and it's me.

When I wake up, Beo looks happy to see me. He's an odd person, always has been, and now that he's completely lost it he's even more so.

"Morning Roger!" he chirps, stretching out his arms and yawning. "Boy am I tired. I suppose that's the life of being chief, though, don't you?"

"I guess so," I say, stretching an rubbing my eyes. It's going to be a long day, I can feel it. The speed of the Games is starting to pick up. Two tributes died yesterday, and if that speed keeps up it won't be long until we're back. However, I doubt the Careers will be weeded out as easily as the fifteen-year-old and the quiet, forgettable outlier.

"Two sacrifices were made yesterday," he says, "But neither of them were by us. We need to do our part to appease the beast."

"Roger that," I say. I just can't resist. The pun causes him to burst out laughing loudly. He clutches his stomach and laughs. Even though I know it's just out of amusement, it's still extremely off-putting.

"Roger that!" he cackles. "Your name is Roger ahaha! I get it! Roger that! Should I say Jack that!?" he laughs even louder. "Jack that! Ahaha, Jack that!"

I give a puff of air resembling a chuckle. It was pretty funny, but not funny enough for me to crack a smile. My mind wanders to that time in the pond, when Static made me smile. And, just like that, any joy I may have had was sucked away.

It's funny how just one memory can do that. You're doing something that brings joy, and then you think of that one fateful thing and your mood plummets. Your joy is sapped away. You were climbing steadily, when your foot slips and you slide back down. God, it's frustrating. It's frustrating how easily it can happen too. I was in a good mood, or, as good a mood as I could have been in, and just thinking about the word smile brought that stupid memory back to my mind. And just like that I'm totally depressed all over again. It's laughable, almost. It really is.

"So, we'll be on the move today, right?" Beo asks, handing me a couple small pieces of beef jerky for lunch.

"That's right," I say. "Today, we hunt."

"You're so agreeable," he muses, eating his pieces of jerky quickly. I eat mine slowly. If I eat slowly, I can trick my stomach into thinking there's more than there actually is. Or, so I hope. I take plenty of time to taste it, nibbling off small pieces at a time. Plus, the thought of hunting doesn't exactly seem like a fun thing. A necessary evil, for sure, but what's the harm in putting it off for just a little bit?

"Well, you are the chief. I wouldn't want to disagree with you."

"And that's very smart of you." It's amazing how fast I've become desensitized to the sight of his smiling face, covered in blood, and to the sticky feeling of it on my face, and the smell. The smell, which had once been rancid to me, is now barely enough for me to pick up on. Amazing how resilient the human body can be in times of anger. Too bad the heart can't be the same way.

"You eat slow," he says, fidgeting with his hands impatiently.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

He keeps fidgeting, eventually taking to swaying from side to side. One thing I've noticed about Beo is that he really doesn't like sitting still. Even when he's on watch, he's always swaying or fidgeting or even sometimes getting up and pacing. I wonder how he can even stay focused enough to read so much.

Soon, the jerky runs out and it's time to face the music. Today, we have tributes to hunt.

"Ready to go now?" he asks. I give a nod. "Finally."

We collect the backpacks of stuff and weapons. From the tomb we go back out to the pit.

"So which way should we go today?" Beo asks, looking around. "Maybe back down? Or maybe back out and around…"

"Hm… Maybe we go down?"

He looks over, suddenly grinning, about to burst with laughter as he says, "Jack that!" he starts laughing again, loudly. This time, in the pit, it booms and echoes, probably scaring away any tribute within a five mile radius with a brain.

"Where's the rope to go down again?" I ask, trying to keep him on topic.

"JACK THAT!" he practically shouts, still howling with laughter. I sigh. It's going to be a minute. Luckily, I'm pretty patient, so I think I can wait it out.

Suddenly, though, my eye catches movement, and before I can react, a black blur with glowing red eyes whips past Beo, causing him to give a small howl of pain. I notice that whatever it was must have had a razor-sharp wing or something, because it made a cut on his neck that immediately started oozing blood.

"What was that?" he asks, blinking in shock. He looks fairly amused, not bothered by the pain or the blood.

"Um…" Before I can guess, I see a black hoard of them descending from the ceilings. Mutts. I clutch the knife tightly, and Beo has his sword. The cluster separates into tens, hundreds maybe, of mutts that look like bats, that descend on us. I stumble back quickly, gasping a bit in shock. I swing my knife against the bats as I lose sight of Beo. I feel the sharp pain of slashes on my arms and shoulders, quickly fighting back against them.

I hear footsteps and voices just then, the booming confident voice of Tempest and the quieter voice of Ezie. I look around, but I can't even see Beo in the mass of black that surrounds him.

I don't have nearly as many mutts on me, though, so I start to plan a way I can attack either or both of them.

I try to ignore Beo's screaming, half of them battle cries and the other half cries of agony.

When the other two tributes arrive, many of the bats leave me to rampage them. Soon I realize that the number of mutts per tribute is severely unbalanced. I only have to fight one or two bats at a time, after all, while Beo is covered by them, so many that I can't even see his face. Tempest has two or three at a time, which she isn't struggling too much with as she slashes with a knife at them.

Ezie is unlucky like Beo. I have no idea why the bats are going for both of the boys. Maybe they're man-eaters or something. Tempest doesn't seem nearly as interested in fighting me as she does in saving Ezie, though. She charges towards the pile that he's struggling with, but the closer she gets to saving him, the more bats are unleashed on her. She fights valiantly, but soon I start to see that maybe this is a battle that is meant to be hopeless. I keep fighting whatever bats come my way, careful not to let them scratch me up. Beo's screams are loud and high-pitched, echoing eerily through the pit just like those of his victims. I focus on the small battles I have.

Tempest keeps lunging towards Ezie.

"Tempest, stop, they're only going to hurt you!" he shouts at her, in between screams of pain and agony.

"EZIE!" she yells, over Beo, "EZIE!" She charges again, this time being sent backwards by five bats charging at her, making bleeding gashes on her arms and shoulders.

"Focus on your own! I'll be alright!" he yells again, but she doesn't listen.

"EZIE! I'M NOT GIVING UP!" she charges for the bats again, but more of them come, one of them landing a gash right across her cheek, which causes her to cry out in pain. Just then, before I even know what's happening, I see Ezie take off running. He's not trying to run for shelter, though. He gets a running start, and I realize what he's doing before Tempest does. Tempest doesn't scream again until he makes the leap off the edge of the pit.

"EZIE NO! Tempest screams, running to the edge of the pit and collapsing to her knees. "EZIE!" It's too late. All she can do is watch as his figure tumbles away into the darkness.

One down, four to go.

Even after Ezie tumbles, the assault doesn't stop. Tempest, totally crushed, and bleeding from numerous places, takes off running, grabbing the rope to go down and disappearing into the darkness.

Some bats still try to attack me, but by now the black mass is on Beo, who is still screaming. His screams have gotten significantly weaker, though. If Tempest's trying to save her ally taught me anything, it's to let the mutts do what they want.

It seems like an eternity before the bats eventually decide to leave Beo. They fly away together just like that. I'm still standing blood oozing out of cuts on my arms and shoulders, shaking, their tiny black corpses covering the floor around my feet. The pit is silent for just a second, the silence shattered by Ezie's cannon.

I notice Beo just then. He's curled up in the fetal position, covered in blood that only keeps gushing. His eyes are still blinking, pouring out tears. He's still alive. I hurry over to him, kicking the horrible corpses out of my way.

As soon as he sees me, he holds out a shaking hand, and I grab it and squeeze it. My hands shake, but I try to keep them as steady as I can. His hand is shaking, tremoring, but he squeezes mine tightly, as if trying to clutch on to life.

"I'm so sorry chief," I say quietly, trying not to shake.

"It's okay Torque," he says quietly, squeezing tears out of his eyes. That causes me to blink in surprise. He keeps talking, though. "I was always doomed. I was never going to make it back home."

"You did your best. I bet they're really proud of you."

"Even Nik?" he asks, tears pouring out of his eyes that break up some of the blood on his face.

"Especially Nik," I say. I brush some of the bangs out of his eyes and cleared some of the blood from his forehead as I pick up the plastered hair.

He lets out a strained sob. "No he wouldn't."

"Sh… You did your best."

"I never got to make it right with him," Beo whispered, voice shaking. "He was my forever and I messed it up. And I'm never going to get it back. He always had my heart. We were going to be everything together. We were going to run away together when we were old enough. We were going to be everything." His whole body shakes as tears roll down his cheeks, clearing a path in the stained-on blood. "And it's all because of me that we'll never be anything." He let out another shaking sob.

"Sh… Take it easy."

"The beast isn't something you can hunt and kill," he said, voice quivering. "I always knew. It's a part of us."

"Sh…" I feel my eyes pool up with tears but don't let them fall. His hand squeezes mine and I squeeze it back.

"Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear," he says quietly. "I never stopped loving you."

He closes his eyes slowly, his chest still rising and falling with sobs.

A single tear rolls down my nose and drips onto his body. I can't control it. "You fought well, Chief," I say quietly. He squeezes my hand, weakly.

"Take me and cut me out in little stars," he whispers, before his shaking breaths slow, and eventually stop.

"I will," I whisper, placing his limp hand down gently on his chest. "I promise."

I sniffle and wipe my eyes, collecting the backpacks, his sword, and the knife.

Then, I get up and walk back to the tomb, alone.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Did I expect this to be so sad? No. Oops. Guess those things just kind of happen when your heart's really in the moment.**_

 _ **We're officially down to four now, I can't believe it. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was a blast to write from beginning to end. Legend, thank you so much for Ezie. I'm pretty sure that we're not going to be done with him so easily, though, haha. He still has plenty we can do with him. Even so, his role in the story has come to an end, I hope you enjoyed it.**_

 _ **And, Beo. He was the one that I knew wouldn't be able to be a Victor. It was either him or a spoiler, and I chose the spoiler.**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Are you surprised by the final four? Are you satisfied with them?**_

 _ **In three chapters, we will have a Victor! I can't wait to finish this story with a bang. Thanks as always for your support, I'll see you all there!**_

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	29. Pride and Survival

_The eleventh day_

* * *

-Tempest's POV-

My feet slam on the concrete floor of the bottom of the pit. I don't know where I'm going, all I know is that I had to be away from there as fast as I could go. As soon as I let go of the rope, I collapse to my knees. My arms and legs shake, my chest convulses, as if someone is squeezing it over and over again with a tight fist.

I clench my fists, feeling the pain that digs into my palm, trying to get a hold of myself, but it's in vain. God, I failed him, I failed him and now he's dead. Not long after my feet hit the concrete, a second cannon shoots off, probably for Beo. Maybe I can guess why the bats targeted Beo. After all, from the screams I heard from his victims, from the smell of blood I got just from being near him and Torque, he probably had it coming to him. But why Ezie!?

I make myself rise up on my feet. In the darkness, my vision is blurred with tears. I start moving, trying to find a place where I can rest, calm myself own, and snap out of it. I stumble around the pit, using the wall for support, to keep standing. Snot runs out of my nose, and no matter how much I wipe at it with my arm, it doesn't stop. Tears are leaking out of my eyes, but the moment I let them out for real is the moment I break down. _And Tempest La Rossa doesn't break_. Never have, never will.

I keep moving until I trip over something and hit the hard cement ground. From there I don't want to get up. My whole body shakes, every breath quivers. My throat is sticky with mucus. I try to keep the tears from coming, but they don't stop trying. For a second I stay down there, but only for a second. _Tempest La Rossa doesn't let anything knock her down_. I get up to my feet and find what I tripped on.

His backpack.

This must have been near where he fell. That thought, along with the pure imaginative thought of coming across his corpse, brings nothing but cold fear into my heart.

 _Tempest La Rossa is never afraid._

I take the backpack from the ground. I know he would have wanted me to have it. Bastard would probably say something totally stupid, like, "Here you go. Sorry some of the oranges might be smushed. I did my best to hit the ground as gently as possible just for you, punk" or some shit. That thought makes me laugh, but sends another dagger through my heart. It's fucking sick, but it's what he'd say. I know it. I knew him.

I take the backpack and mine and keep moving until I enter the first room I see. I step carefully to avoid the pieces of broken clay from pots that must have been in the room. I keep going, finding a room even further separated from the darkness below the pit. It's there that I finally collapse on my knees, dropping everything. I can't help the ugly sobs that come out of me.

 _No, no, no! Tempest La Rossa doesn't cry!_ I can't help it. Curled up, on the floor, quivering and shaking, I can't help it. Tears bubble out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks. My lungs feel like they're being squeezed and released, as I gasp for breath and try not to sob.

Ezie. Good, kind, Ezie. Funny, witty, sarcastic Ezie. Stupid, confident, dorky Ezie. Why would the mutts target him? What did he do to deserve such a horrible death? He was innocent, wasn't he? He played the game fairly. Did they go after him just because he was good at predicting things? Did they target him because he was observant? Why did they go after him!? And why couldn't I save him?

 _I couldn't save him because I'm not good enough._

Tears push out of my eyes. I spent so much time on my high horse. I called it confidence, but maybe it was arrogance. Maybe I was never good enough. Maybe I've bitten off more than I can chew. I wasn't good enough to save him. I did everything and it wasn't enough. Maybe I'm not enough.

I dig my nails into my stomach, hoping that the pain will help me get a grip. It doesn't. I tried everything and it wasn't enough to save him. My own ally. All this time I was nothing but a delusional little girl with way too much pride and I didn't realize it until now. I wasn't enough for him. I wasn't good enough, strong enough, fast enough. I wasn't determined enough. I let him down. I let all my allies down. As their leader, I should have worked harder to think things through instead of charging into things rashly.

I was never enough for him. He should have been the leader. He was the smartest out of all of us, he was the worthiest. He should be here, not me. He played a better game. He made better decisions. I don't deserve to be here. I spent the whole game being passed around like… Like a fucking trophy!

I gasp for breath as more pathetic sobs are pushed out of me. More pathetic tears roll down my pathetic little face. I wasn't good enough for him. He died because I wasn't good enough to save him.

All this time I pretended I knew what I was doing, but in reality I had no idea. I've been passed around, played, manipulated like a baby doll. So much for being a strong woman. I never was. I'm destined to end up like my mother. My voice silenced. That's what happened here. I lost my independence. I continually fucked up, I was just lucky enough that I never had to pay the price for my sins. Now, the one that should have won is gone. Just like that.

He did it to himself. Maybe because he didn't want to die a slow, gory death to the mutts. Maybe because he didn't think I could save him and knew it was hopeless. Maybe because he wanted the agony to end already.

I could have stopped him if I had been better. If I had been faster. If I had been a better strategist. Maybe instead of using my brawn to try and save him I should've just stopped and thought for a second. Maybe if I had thought harder, maybe if I'd gotten creative, I could have come up with something. Maybe if I wasn't blinded by panic I could have come up with a plan that could have saved him. I'm not witty like him, though. I'm not clever and brainy like he i- _was_. I was never the one with a plan. He was always the one that made plans. Even though I played leader, I never was one. I'm not smart enough to be a leader. I'm not witty enough, creative enough, independent enough to be a leader.

I thought I was some great role model, that little girls could look up to, but now I realize that this whole time I've just been a faker. I realize that I've been a figurehead. I was never anything. I will never be anything. I was never enough, I will never be enough. Here I am, curled up like a baby on the floor, and I can't even handle having emotions like someone strong can. I can't control the tears. I'm pathetic, I'm deadweight, I'm nothing. If someone were to attack now, I would lose the battle because I can't hold it together for two fucking seconds. Even the kid from Five, the sixteen-year-old reaped kid from Five, can hold it together better than I can. How fucking pathetic is that!?

I'm such a fucking girl. I'll never be as strong as the guys that I fought in training. I'm just a weak little hormonal crybaby, just like the rest of them. Even if I manage to get out of here alive, I'm doomed to a life of never having control. I used to pretend I had control over my life, but in reality I had none whatsoever. God, how pathetic. And to make it worse, to add insult to fucking injury, losing Ezie has caused me to spiral, so much that I'm questioning every single goddamn thing about myself. What the fuck? I hate this. I hate being such a pathetic little loser.

It takes a while for me to get a fucking grip. I hate it. Way for me to just break down in front of everyone. I can't just hold it in like the other tributes. I can't just hide it behind a smile. No, of course not. All I can do is sit here and miss him. All I can do is sit here and clench my little crybaby fists and try not to scream. The more I think about it, the more vividly I can imagine him falling, falling down the pit, hitting the ground and splatting everywhere, blood and guts on his jacket, the more I think about it the more vivid it all becomes, the more painful it is. I can't stand it, but I can't think of anything else.

It takes a long time for my tears to run out. If only the sadness ran out with it. But, of course it doesn't.

Every time I wipe the tears from my face, I wipe some blood from the cut across my cheek left by the bats. One of the many times I tried and failed to save him. The cut is just an ugly reminder of the times I've failed. Feeling the sting, the slow ooze of the warm, thick blood down my face, just makes me angry all over again. My eyes fill with tears, but this time, finally, I can swallow them back down like a fucking adult.

I know that I have to tend to some of these wounds. Having something to do helps with the crying, thank God. I disinfect the cuts on my arms and shoulders, and the one on my face. I don't mind the pain. It's probably deserved. I wrap up my arm just like I learned in training. Having something to do, something I'm actually competent at for once, helps me to calm down a bit. I realize my hands are still shaking a bit as I bring a thermos of water to my face, so I eat some jerky for dinner. By the time I'm finished with that, I feel much calmer. The dark thoughts have gone away and I start to think at least somewhat rationally.

I know that a lot of what I thought before wasn't true. I'm obviously good enough for something considering I'm still here. And besides, this is the Hunger Games. I couldn't protect everyone forever just because we called each other allies. It's just so easy to have terrible thoughts when your world comes crashing down. Now I can see why Whimsy was so shaken by Alma's death.

I feel a sudden pang of guilt. I was so annoyed when Whimsy cried after Alma's death. I thought that she was being pathetic. I demeaned her and figured she was nothing but deadweight. Now, though, now I understand. Watching a friend die is much easier said than done. I wish I hadn't been so terrible to her. I wish I hadn't spent so much time trying to prove I was better than everyone else. Now I see that I should have been more compassionate and encouraging. Now I see that I should have tried to help people instead of trying to tear them down. Now I see that I'm not all high and mighty just because I scored highest in training, or because I see gold when I look at myself in the mirror. That really doesn't matter, in the long run.

All this time, I've been so self-absorbed. And now, in this Arena… I didn't lose anything. I didn't lose my voice. I didn't lose my independence. Instead, I learned how to understand people. I learned how to compromise. I learned how to be a part of a team. Just because that team included a guy or two didn't mean I was losing my voice to them. No, I didn't lose anything. But I gained so much.

He brought that out of me. There's no doubt in my mind about that.

Ezie brought it out of me. He showed me how to have a relationship with someone I respected. That's the kind of relationship I would want to have, if I ever got married. I don't want to be commanding and domineering over my partner. I would want to be equal with them. I guess that's where I was set in the wrong direction. But he showed me that two heads are better than one. That two people against the world are far better than just one.

He was just someone I liked to be around. He made me laugh. He was a loyal friend. He didn't take me too seriously. He didn't expect me to be some superhuman that always defied gender norms to be stronger. He didn't expect me to be anything but me. And he stood by me. And that's something I'll never be able to repay.

Just about when I'm finished eating, the Capitol anthem starts to play, as day fades away into night.

* * *

 _The eleventh night_

* * *

I sit and watch, finishing my last bite of jerky as Ezie's face appears in the sky. Seeing it brings more tears to my eyes. I miss him so much already and he's only been gone a couple hours. I didn't appreciate him enough when he was here. I realize that now, now when it's too late for me to do anything.

Beo's face appears, but I'm still on Ezie.

He was my sunrise.

He was my calm in chaotic times. He caught me when I fell. His smile could light up the night sky with the promise of a new day.

He was my hope. When I was with him, I always figured that… It would be okay.

He was right, that day. When he said I wouldn't be able to kill him. I wouldn't have. Because, somewhere, deep in me, I knew. Branden was the fire that destroyed whatever it touched. Ezie was the sunrise. Calm, gentle, beautiful. Constant and consistent.

When tears form in my eyes, this time I let them slide gently down my cheek. I don't want to fight them anymore. Ezie was my friend and I miss him, and letting that show isn't going to change how strong I am, or how much I want to win.

Through my tears, I manage the smallest smile. After all, even though Ezie's gone, I will always be able to see him. All I have to do is go out to beach at dawn, when the sands are cold between my toes and the night chill has yet to be replaced with the humidity of the day. All I have to do is sit on my boat on the calm sea as night turns to morning. I can see him. He'll be there. When I get back home and have my own boat, I'll name it after him.

 _The S. S. Punk._

 _Yes,_ I laugh through my tears. _Perfect._

I'll sail out to sea on the _S. S. Punk_ and watch the sunrise every day. He'll always be with me there. He'll be with me in the ruby red, the soft pink, the glowing orange. I know that we've met a million different times, in a million different lives. Even if we didn't meet, I know that I met him. The sunrise. The constant, calm, loyal sunrise. I've met him a million different times on a million different days. I never thought I'd meet the sunrise embodied in a person, but I have. I'm going to miss him, but a part of him will always be there. He'll be there egging me on. Knowing just how to push my buttons. Just like the good old days.

I take a deep breath. The murky darkness of the temple won't be my forever.

I owe it to him to get home, after all. I will get back home so I can watch the sun rise and think of the good times we shared here. All the bickering and bantering, all the times he made me laugh, they're still with me. Maybe it hurts to think of them now, but it won't hurt forever. I have so much left to do, after all.

I feel unspeakably tired, and before I know it, I'm drifting off into a deep sleep, filled with sweet dreams about being on the ocean with Ezie, watching the orange sun, painting the sky as it slowly appears on the horizon.

* * *

 _The twelfth day_

* * *

-Torque's POV-

What have I become?

What's happened to me? Why did I do that to her? Why did I betray someone that trusted me? Why did I-

No. No no no. I can't think like that. I just can't think like that. If I think like that I'm going to lose it. I don't want to lose it. Mr. Kozart sent a pretty strong message about what happens to tributes that lose it.

I have all his things now. The backpack he was wearing at the time of the attack is covered in tears, so badly that it's barely still together. It's bloodstained, too. I'm lucky I've become impartial to it. I can't become too impartial, though.

I sigh. I guess I saw it coming, to be honest. He really had no chance to come out the Victor. He'd become too violent for them.

That thought makes me laugh. Too violent. They throw us all in here, but we have to maintain some degree of humanity if we want to come out. We have to do what it takes to survive, but within reason. Who would want to watch violent, slow murder? Fast, easy murder is much easier to stomach. I wonder if it's easier to pretend they're not really dead that way. If it gets too dark in here, people start to realize what's really happening. If it gets too dark, it's no longer fun and entertaining. When it gets too dark, people start to wonder if the Hunger Games is really humane. So, of course, instead of putting the blame on the Games, on the annual death match between poor, starving, hopeless kids who can't even afford food to feed their families, much less health care, much less fair working conditions, they put the blame on the tribute. Beo isn't the villain. The Games did this to him. The Games did this to all of us. The Games did it.

As sick and saddening as the thought is, it's comforting, in a way. I did what I have to. It's not my fault, it's the Games. It's not my fault. None of this is my fault. I hold it close to my heart like a mantra.

It can't get too dark, it can't get too bloody. It's laughable, really. How they put us in here to fight to the death, but restrict us from fighting to the death at the same time. It's funny how they have to take out the tributes that just want to get home just because they make the viewers uncomfortable watching murder. God, it's sick. God, it's fucked up. It's fucked up how I had to hold the hand of a dying boy who did nothing wrong. It's fucked up that I had to smash a rock into another person's head because if I didn't, he was going to kill me or my ally. It's really fucked up that Beo had to become a whole different person to even have a chance at winning. Everything about the Games is so fucking fucked up. And I'm one of four left to shoulder the damage.

I don't know why the bats went for Ezie, but at this point, I don't really care. He's one less person that stands in the way of getting back to my family and friends. That's all he was to me and that's all he's going to be. That's all any of them are.

It was basically impossible to clean the bat guts off of the sword and knife. Everything I have is bloody. All it would do is smudge it all around. I was able to treat my wounds with the first-aid kit that was in Beo's backpack. As soon as I got back to the Tomb, I used my shirt to wipe the blood off my face. The blood of my first ally. The blood of the betrayer.

I still see the scene so clearly. All the scenes that led to this moment. Of course, the most recent nightmare sticks out the most. Beo's sad, weak, bleeding body.

" _Take me and cut me out in little stars."_ I'm pretty sure he didn't make that up himself, it sounds pretty familiar to me. I can't exactly place where from, but maybe when I get out of here, I'll be able to read and figure it out. When I get out of the Games, I will finally have enough money to provide for Ree and my family. I can go back to school. I can learn. I can explore the world, and feed my starving curiosity. I always wanted to learn, I wanted to learn and go to school so I could get a really good job. I was always smart enough to learn. I had to drop out to work. But if I win, I wouldn't have to work that stupid menial factory job anymore. I could really learn. And the first thing I want to do is read. I want to read everything. I want to read the books he quoted. I want to see the world. I want to know what he knew.

Obviously I can't do anything to cut him into little stars. But I can think of him when I look up. He was just a lost little pig, hiding behind the façade of a big bad wolf. I'm starting to think that maybe he played the villain all the time because that's what he was told he was so often back home. In the night time, when he thought I was asleep, he narrated some pretty harsh truths. There's no way he could have painted such an accurate picture of emotional abuse without having gone through it himself. No way in hell.

I eat the last of the food supply for breakfast. There's no way to make this last any longer than a meal at this point. Even an experienced ration-er like me can't make it last any longer. I'm just going to have to find another food source, loot it off of another tribute, or survive until I've won. And if there's one thing I've been consistently good at, it's surviving. I think we can all agree on that.

I've barley finished my breakfast when I see a figure roll out of the tunnel on the far side of the room. This time, I know that there's no time to freeze up, no possibility of escape, and no point in waiting for the element of surprise. As soon as her feet hit the floor I charge, striking with my sword with as much force as I can muster. Unfortunately, I'm facing a very capable fighter, who immediately deflects my attack and sends my sword away from her so she can get her footing. It's barely another second before she's on offense. I do my best to defend her attacks, but they're so fast and strong. I know that I can't win this fight based on swordwork alone. It doesn't take very long at all to figure that out. She's a trained eighteen-year-old Career, after all, and I'm a starving sixteen-year-old from District Five. I have something she doesn't, though. My wit. I just need to come up with something, and until I can, well, I just need to survive.

I move backwards, away from her, defending her attacks as she closes in on me. I try to keep up defending her attacks, but she keeps easily getting hits on my arms and legs. I'm not going to give up so easily, though. I keep stepping backwards, trying to come up with a plan. I definitely can't talk my way out of this one, so I'm going to have to get creative somehow.

I decide that there's a sure-fire way to even out this fight. So, instead of going for her, I lunge across the room, quickly throwing the torches on the walls to the ground and stomping them out. Bellona follows, trying to get me before I can get all the torches. I'm just lucky she doesn't have a long distance weapon, otherwise I'd be toast.

One, two, three torches. Four, five torches. There's one left. On my way, though, she lands a hit across my back. I bite my lip to keep from screaming, staying focused on my goal. I grab the last torch and put it out, shrouding both of us in darkness. Now neither of us can see the other, which is going to make a big dramatic sword fight much harder to choreograph. Soon, I see her pull out a flashlight, and can't help a small relieved grin from appearing on my face for half a second. Now I know exactly where she is, but she has no idea where I am. The Tomb is so expansive that the beam of the flashlight, which is running low on batteries from overuse, doesn't reach all the way to the wall. This is a careful dance, but much easier to choreograph than a sword fight. I can feel blood gushing out of the wounds she made on my arms, legs, and especially my back, but I keep going. I don't have any time to waste, after all.

 _"He was happy and wore the damp darkness of the forest like his old clothes."_ Looks like Beo and his literature analogies haven't totally left me yet.

I use the darkness to my advantage. I can practically feel the arrogant smirk on her face when she notices the silhouette of the tomb, probably thinking it's me. The second she turns to shine the light on it, I charge. I head straight towards her, my steps silent, so silent she doesn't notice I'm behind her until I plunge the sword in to her back. She immediately falls to her knees, coughing, her flashlight clattering the ground and shining on her face just long enough for me to see the blood dribbling down her chin.

Her cannon booms a second after, my hands still wrapped tightly around the handle of the sword which is still in her back.

I take a second to breathe as Bellona's flashlight flickers once, twice, three times before the light turns off completely. Just like she did.

The room is totally silent and totally dark. All I can hear is the sound of my heart beating and my own pants.

I've really done it now. I've killed a Career. But I'm still alive. There's still blood pumping through my veins, my heart is still beating, my lungs are still expanding and contracting, breathing in air. My stomach is still empty and growling, my brain is still thinking, a hundred words a second.

I'm still alive. Somehow, I weaseled my way into the final three.

I have to hold Bellona's body down with my foot to pull the sword out of her. There's no doubt that she should have won that battle, a sword fight against an untrained kid that hadn't held a weapon until less than a month ago. Unfortunately for her, she was also against a smart cookie. A smart cookie that is determined to get home to their family, to their sister. Unfortunately for her, she crossed a Nawrocki. And if there's one thing that all of us Nawrockis are good at, it's surviving. That's something to be proud of.

I'm proud of my sisters for surviving so well. I'm proud of Ree for holding on so long. The doctors said she'd be lucky to see her ninth birthday, and she did it anyways. I'm proud of Fiona for surviving the worst of the worst. In a family with two absent parents, Fiona is solely responsible for Kyria and Ree. With one sibling on death's doorstep and one in the Arena, she must be going through so much pain. But she's surviving. I can only hope. No, I know my sister. She's surviving. She's survived being called so many horrible things just because she had a crush on a girl. She's only thirteen, but she's by far the toughest Nawrocki. I'm so proud of her. I'm proud of Kyria, too. At six years old, she's in a very tough place. Realizing what the Games really are, realizing the reality that Ree is in danger, and she's surviving. She doesn't have to thrive at this point in her life. I'm sure she's extremely upset. But she's surviving.

If my sisters can survive the toughest of tragedies, so can I. They inspire me just as much as I inspire them, if not more.

I'm going to emerge victorious. I'm going to climb until I reach the top.

I'm almost there.

Two more and I'm there.

Two more and I can go back home, and our family will be whole again.

Two more and I can leave this hellscape behind, ghosts and all.

Two more and I can finally start to pick up the broken pieces that thus far I've insisted on leaving behind.

Two more.

Two more.

Two more.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Wow, I didn't expect to get this done today but I just got really, REALLY inspired.**_

 _ **RIP Bellona. You really did your best. You did your District proud and you're going to be sorely, sorely missed. Thank you a bunch for her, Dreamer! I hope you like what I did with her and how she met her demise. I'm sure there's still plenty left to do with her now though, looking forward to it!**_

 _ **Final three, woo hoo! I'm so hype, only two more chapters and we have a Victor! I am pretty much 100% positive of who it's going to be, but I've said that before and totally changed my mind (cough, Silhouettes) so it's not totally certain yet. I have to plan out next chapter and see how it goes. I have a working idea but I might change it because I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it work yet.**_

 _ **Anyways, enough rambling! Sponsoring will officially close next chapter so now's your last chance!**_

 _ **Thank you all for reading and reviewing and sending your wonderful support! I hope you're enjoying how the story is coming to a close and are as excited as I am to get to the finale!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Since there aren't that many readers left, I'm not going to make a Victor poll for this story, so instead you can cast your vote through review! Rank the top three in order of preference for the title!**_

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 _ **Xechaste: 4**_

 _ **youngpatriot: 44**_


	30. Earthquake

_**A/N: Warning: this chapter is dark and contains multiple triggers.**_

* * *

 _The twelfth night_

* * *

-Torque's POV-

There is nothing but darkness surrounding me. Nothing but thick, impenetrable, suffocating darkness. Nothing but me, my heartbeat, and my thoughts. I spent a while stumbling around the now pitch black room but haven't successfully found anything. It's amazing how disorienting it is, being in the dark. I kept moving until I got tired, and now I'm here.

I can't sleep, though.

I haven't been able to sleep since Beo died. I may close my eyes, but it's never enough. I can't sleep. My mind is constantly whirling around with thoughts. Thoughts of things I could have done differently. Nightmares of the days to come.

Last night was the worst. By far, for sure the worst. After all, I had seen horror. More tributes were dying right in front of my eyes. As hard as I try to keep from cracking, it's hard when there's an earthquake shaking you. It's hard when you actually have to sit and watch the light leave your ally's eyes. And, yet again, I found that I had grown to like Beo. Yeah, call me sick. I guess I just learned more about him and started to understand him. I felt bad for him. But I grew close to him. That much I can't deny. I just realized it at the very end. Kind of like the opposite of how the first one went.

Just like that, I know I'm not going to be able to sleep for a longer time. I try to avoid it, but it's basically impossible. At least last night I could cure the unspeakable urges to cut my stomach by tying rope or something. Now all I have is the darkness and my weapon, which is probably still dirty with Bellona's blood.

There's nothing to keep me from thinking about it.

I can't stop thinking about his face as he was dying. The slick blood that poured out of his wounds. His last words. How pathetic and weak they were. And the more I think about that, the more I think about the fact that my own District partner didn't get the privilege of saying goodbye.

My anger has faded away. Sure, maybe her words would always come back when I needed fuel for my fire of self-hatred, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that she was gone, and it was my fault. She had called me selfish, but I had proved her right. I stooped down to her level. I proved her right. And for that, I don't know if I can forgive myself.

Sure, I still get a little mad when I think about it. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a robot. But I'm a pretty forgiving person. I forgive, and forgive, and forgive. Even if people don't always deserve it, I forgive. And, even if I'm sure she was never truly sorry, even if I'm sure she would have thrown me under the bus in two seconds, I still want to forgive her. I still want to hold onto some sort of hope that she would have come to her senses and not killed me if she was in my shoes. And when I imagine that, the pain strikes twice as hard.

I'm a murderer. The blood of three teenagers stains my hands, and if I want to get out of the Games, I will have to take at least one more, maybe two.

 _No, Torque_ , I try to keep the thoughts away, but it's too late. Once I'm absorbed in a train of thought, there's absolutely no getting rid of it.

I proved her right. I proved that I'm nothing but a selfish twat. Both of my allies died under my watch, after all. Tempest did everything she could to save Ezie, she lunged, she took multiple injuries for him, she was hurt and bleeding trying to save him. She never gave up on saving him like I did. I shouldn't have been the one to hold his hand when he died. I didn't deserve to be there, I was absolutely useless.

I tried to keep up the dark streak, I really did. But it's eating away at me, threatening to swallow everything about who I am. I don't want that to happen. I don't want to lose myself, I already saw what that results in. Besides, how the hell can I kill other teens in cold blood with my sisters watching at home? How could I betray my friends like that? What kind of lessons does that teach them?

I sit up in the dark. I can see nothing, but I have to do something, something to feel more alive. Something to keep my hands from burying themselves in my sides. Something to keep myself sane.

It's just so hard. I can't blame someone else for the things I've done. That isn't right of me. I took those lives and I need to fess up to it. I need to acknowledge what I did to them. It wasn't some otherworldly spirit or character from a stupid book. It was me, totally my doing. And I totally liked it. I watched her fall and felt no remorse. I felt a kind of satisfaction from tearing her apart. Just like she did to me. I did something rash. Just like she did to me. I stooped to her level, all because I lost my patience and couldn't keep a cool head. What did my family think of me? What did my friends think of me? I could have at least killed her quickly and painlessly. I could have kept my big stupid rash mouth shut and not revealed anything. I could have saved her, maybe, if I had done something, tried hard enough. And I didn't. I didn't do anything but stand around and watch her go. Just like I failed my other ally and friend.

 _How could I do that to them?_

That thought flies around my head like a whirlwind. It was all my fault. I was the one responsible for what I did to them. Ad what I didn't do to save them. I would always be responsible for the deaths of three people just like me, who wanted to get home just as much as I do. And the worst part is that one of them, I knew everything about. I knew everything about her, her family, her friends, the people she liked and didn't like, her home, and I killed her without giving a single damn.

" _You're so fucking selfish and always have been!"_ What if she was right? Maybe I was just trying to make myself feel better by lying. Maybe I've been selfish this whole time and everyone around me was too afraid to tell me. Either way, I sealed my fate by stomping on her hands that day. I stooped down to her level, I stooped to that horrible level of rashness, selfishness. That day, I showed my true colors by sending a girl only two years older than Fiona tumbling into the darkness and felt nothing but the satisfaction of having my revenge on her, for what, for being mad at me because I left her alone and vulnerable? Maybe she was right to be mad at me. Maybe she was justified in saying those things to me. Maybe I was just being stubborn and didn't realize she was right.

I sent her to her death.

I killed my own goddamn fucking District partner in cold blood. I proved her right that day.

 _I_

 _proved_

 _her_

 _right._

My nails bury themselves into my sides. It's all I can do to hold in tears. I can't crack, I have to keep the stone mask on, just like I always have. I have to continue to be heartless, emotionless, unbreakable, pristine, relaxed, chill as a fucking cucumber.

" _Useless jackass!"_ Maybe she was right. After all, I couldn't even save my own sister no matter how hard I try. I barely brought in any money, and I only strained my parents' marriage when I came out. I should have just stayed in the closet, hidden, I shouldn't have come out. It put so much tension in my family. My sisters and mother were afraid of getting it wrong. My father thought I was a freak and never tried to understand me or show me basic human respect. I put so much unnecessary conflict and tension in my family. I'm nothing but a lost, confused kid that didn't do anything but make trouble.

I was always so cynical and sarcastic, but maybe my rough exterior hurt people. I tried to talk to people, but I guess I always came across as uncaring. My heart swells for people, but nobody had any idea about it. Nobody really knew how much I cared about them because I could never put it into fucking words. My friends always teased me about being uncaring, saying that they wouldn't describe me as kind or caring or thoughtful, and though I brushed it off at the time, now I wonder if they really feel that way. Did I hurt them and they were just too afraid to tell me? Do they think I never cared about them? That thought just hurts. I try to let them know every once in a while how much I appreciate them, but maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe I'm not enough.

" _stupid, fucking jackass!"_ I couldn't do anything. I couldn't help my sisters. I couldn't keep my family together. I couldn't do anything. No matter what I do, my father will never be proud of me. No matter what I do, there will always be tension in my parents' marriage, there will always be that stress and sadness that will never be resolved. And it's all because of me. Even when I die, they will never be able to get that back.

I run my fingertips lightly over the spots my nails were and feel simple crescents imprints. Part of me is relieved that it didn't break skin. Part is disappointed.

There was so much more I could have done to save them. I could have made some kind of plan, I could have done something to show them that I cared. I should have tried to save Beo like Tempest saved Ezie. Maybe I could have saved him, if I'd tried. I should have tried harder to get the real Beo out, so that he wouldn't have been targeted. There are so many different ways this could have ended, but it ended here. With me alive, and all of them dead.

I killed Trekker, too. I smashed his head with a rock until it cracked. I kept going until he went still. I didn't stop, even when my hands were splatted with blood and brain matter. I killed him like a savage. That wasn't the work of anyone but myself. He was running away and I still killed him. Something in me snapped. Something in me snapped and I kept going until he was dead. I didn't get to see the light leave his eyes. He didn't have any time to say goodbye.

" _selfish and fake as hell!"_ Maybe she's right. After all, I always hid behind my walls. I tried and tried, but I just couldn't seem to figure out who I wanted to be. I wanted to be extroverted and kind, but I wasn't that at all. I was awkward and quiet and shy, for some reason I just couldn't seem to talk to people without clamming up and totally fucking it up. I was a fake friend that learned so much about Static as her friend and totally ruined her trust. I used everything against her and I didn't feel a thing. She trusted me with her secrets, those little things that made her who she was, the big things that would put her at a disadvantage, because she trusted me. And I threw it all away.

I have the sword. I lay with my eyes closed, trying to sleep, but all I can think about is dragging the smooth blade across my flesh, hoping that somehow that would help. It's right there. I ball my hands into fists and resist, though. After all, the cameras could be on me. I can't let my sisters watch me. I can't let them catch me in the act.

I couldn't help Fiona. Even though I was the " _one we lost"_ in my family (words straight from my own fucking father), I still couldn't help her manage the bullies at school that hazed her because she liked another girl. I couldn't do anything to protect her. And if I could have, I never even tried. I sent her straight to Beverly instead of helping her. I spent so much time working I totally forgot about my own sisters. I wasn't there when she needed me the goddamn most, and I will never forgive myself for that. When Kyria wanted to show me her drawings and needed to study spelling, Fiona always did it. I was just so tired from working all day. But that wasn't an excuse. I was tired but I should have stayed up for her, just five minutes to help her study.

 _Ungrateful_. Hey, I found one that Static missed. Good for me. I always felt grateful for things, because my parents worked so hard for us. I never said it out loud though. It was the little things that were annoying for my mother to keep up, like washing our bed covers and keeping the house clean. I could have helped her with that I didn't because I was too tired. Now I wish I could go back and pitch in. I never even thanked her for doing all of that for us. She probably thought I never noticed, never cared, I was ungrateful. And that's all my fault too.

Hm.

Maybe that falls under the, " _so fucking selfish and always have been"_ umbrella.

I'm still so mad at myself for proving her right that day. I can just imagine my sisters at home, each of them being so convinced that she was wrong. _My big sibling is the opposite of selfish!_ They probably thought. They were probably proud when they thought that. But then I proved her right. Maybe they only thought I was selfless because that's what I told them to think. Maybe all this time I've been wrong about who I am.

I can't stop imaging the knife sinking into my flesh, giving way to blood. It's an impulse now, I can practically feel the sensations of the smooth metal easily cutting into the skin.

I reach over and pinch my arm, trying to snap out of it. The pain kind of snaps me out of it, so I do it again. Again, again, and again, all over my forearm, harder and harder, until the pain makes me bite my lip. That's what's satisfying. The only thing that would be more satisfying would be to see the red welts it would leave on my skin.

That thought terrifies me. The laugh soon turned to a frightened whimper. I'd never had thoughts these severe before. I'd never laughed like that before at something so incredibly morbid. _What's happening to me!?_

 _Oh God oh God oh God…_ my thoughts start to jumble as I feel my hands shaking with fear. I've never felt like this before, and I have no idea how to make it stop. Here, in this Arena, I have nobody to help me. Maybe nobody back home would care enough to anyways.

I've been so selfish and I know it. The thought of facing the families of the dead, Trekker's family, Beo's family, Static's family, terrifies me. The thought of going back to a District that probably hates me. The fact that the whole nation will see me as the monster I've become here. Somehow I think I'll never get the good Torque back. I'll always be this unfeeling, selfish asshole. I guess the Arena brought out my true colors. I always told myself that I could go back to life as normal back home, but I was just lying to myself. My sisters will never look at me the same now that they know who I really am. My mother will probably give up on me, she'll probably take her daughters away from me. The Arena's turned me cold and heartless, and the thought of all the pain that comes with opening my heart is too terrifying for me to ever do it again. I will always be this person, and things will never be the same. I will be alienated by my own home, even more than usual. If I thought it was bad before, if I thought I wanted to cry and scream before, it would only get worse.

All this fucking time, I've been accumulating everyone else's shit, problems, insecurities, flaws, weaknesses, sadness, everyone's goddamn darkness, and I've just kept saying it was okay, but you know what, it's not _fucking_ okay!

My mind races with thoughts. _I'm only sixteen years old, god-fucking-dammit, there's only so goddamn much I can take at one time! There's only so much weight I can carry without fucking bending and breaking under the pressure! And I don't even give a shit anymore about staying intact, not when I'm here! Not when I've become a person I fucking despise! Not when I proved her right, showed my true colors as a selfish goddamn fucking asshole who stood around while his allies died_ \- oh my God. I've just misgendered _myself_.

Fucking _shit_! It's been a while since I was a fucking idiot that did that. It's so ingrained after hearing it for years and fucking years of my life, and I was unlearning it, and I've just gone back to that terrible place when I felt lost and like a freak in my own goddamn skin! Of all times Torque, why now!? How the hell am I supposed to expect other people to remember and use my correct pronouns if I can't even do it myself!?

 _Calm down Torque it was just once out of habit there's some internalized transphobia and it's normal and it'll go away someday just calm down Torque calm down please calm down I'm scared calm down…_

My breaths start to quiver and I can't find the energy to hold it back. After all this time I still slip up. It's just looking so hopeless. What have I ever done for anyone else, and I'm expecting them to do everything for me. I have the audacity to value my life over others, others who have friends and family that care about them just as much, if not more, than mine. Nobody back home really cared, I didn't have as many friends as I pretended I did, why should I still be alive, why should I get to go back home when the other tributes have friends and family that will miss them and ache for them and mourn them!? Why should I be alive when the number of people that actually love me and accept me for who I am can be counted on my fingers?! Why do I matter!? Why am I here and Static isn't?! Why did I do this to her?! She was right, she was right about everything I proved her right, she was always right!

I pick up the sword, squeezing the handle tightly.

"I'm scared," I whisper, my voice shaking, as tears drip out of my eyes, but nobody is there to coddle me and reassure me. Like they really care anyways. The knife slits my thin, starving stomach. I should have done more for them I proved her right I'm selfish and useless and don't deserve to win the Games I will never be anything I will never be loved I ruined the perfect family and thigs will never be the same I'm scared I'm so scared what's happening to me?!

I hate who I've become in this Arena and I refuse to go back home to my family like this. They will never forgive me, my District will never forgive me, I'm not strong enough to handle this I'm weak, I'm weak and I've always been weak, and useless, and ungrateful, and selfish, and I shouldn't be here I shouldn't be here I shouldn't.

"I'm scared." Of course that's all I can say, I'm so fucking goddamn stupid and all I can say is that I'm goddamn afraid like a little whiny kid that is spoiled and selfish and not independent and not used to being alone, I ruined everything I ruined it all what the fucking shit why am I still here I should be dead why did I become this person that I hate?!

Last time I was like this, she was there.

Now I know that everything she said wasn't true. Now I know that she never really cared, she always knew I was a selfish prick and she never meant anything.

Now the blood of the dead is on my hands, up my arms, suffocating me again, like it was then. _Oh God I've killed someone. Oh God oh God oh God. I've killed someone oh God. I've killed people I've killed three people oh God oh God I didn't save them I killed them oh God._

"I'm scared." Tears roll down my cheeks and I do everything to keep from gasping out loud. I need to stay strong, even though the sadness and sobs feel like they're being squeezed out of me. Even if I squeeze my fists, it's not enough. I feel blood pumping out of the cuts on my stomach, soaking into my shirt, but it isn't enough what is happening to me!? "Oh God I've killed someone oh God," I choke out. I've become someone I hate. I've become someone I hate and I proved her right. Things would never be the same if I got home, I wouldn't be able to handle the pressure, I couldn't be a Victor I just couldn't do it I would crack under the pressure oh God I've killed someone I'm only sixteen.

So many empty promises. So many times that I've failed. I tried my best but it was never good enough, it was never enough it was always a mistake I ruined everything oh God I've killed someone I killed three people and failed to save one I watched him die I saw the light leave his eyes oh God. I sent her falling and listened to her screams and felt amazing.

I thought I'd won some kind of victory that day. Now, though, now I see that I was always lying to myself. I didn't win any kind of victory at all. I lost everything that day. I proved her right oh God I wanted to smile when she was falling I felt victorious I sent a fifteen-year-old girl falling to her death oh God oh God oh God I killed her she didn't even get to say goodbye.

I killed Bellona too. I played dirty, I left her in darkness, I didn't give her a fair sword fight she should have won the sword fight but I cheated to win because I'm so selfish and didn't want to die but I should just die, nobody would miss me and maybe my parents would be happier, my sisters wouldn't miss me, I never did enough for them, I never made enough money for Ree, I never did anything well enough to be able to amount to anything so why should I keep lying to myself and saying they would miss me I've killed three people, my sisters will be horrified of me and my District will never forget me and I can't take that.

Everything leading up to this point has just been futile. Now I see that. Too late I see that. Now, now that I'm embraced by darkness, suffocating by the blood that crawls across my arms like a bug, slithering around my shoulders and wrapping around my neck oh God I can't be the reason they're all dead.

"Selfish jackass," I say quietly. It hurts even more to hear it coming from myself, but I know that I've fallen. Like Static, I've fallen, I've been climbing for so long but I lost my grip in the earthquake and fallen, I've fallen until I hit rock bottom, black tar, black tar that is hot and unmoving, hot black tar in which I am stuck and I will never get out. Hot black tar that weighs on my chest and wraps around my mouth.

My entire façade, the stone mask I had been clutching onto, has shattered into a million pieces, and it will never be put together again. I will never be put together again, I will always be a broken murderer, I ruined everything and took lives, I took lives and felt no remorse, I proved her right and I don't want to go back home where everyone will hate me, I'm so tired of being so lonely and pretending that I'm alright I'm so tired of carrying so much all the goddamn time and trying to make it look easy so that people will think highly of me I'm so sick of it.

"Never enough," I say through clenched teeth, tears bubbling out of my eyes and rolling down my cheeks. "I was. Never enough. Oh God, I've killed people." My whole body shakes as I clutch the sword. I can't face their families I can't come up with a reason I should be alive and they shouldn't I can't do it anymore I can't do it I can't survive anymore I can't.

"I can't do it," I choke out, hating how pathetic it sounds. Hating how pathetic I am. All this time she was right and I was too stubborn to believe it but now I see and now I can't go back I can't go home I can't do it anymore. My hands are shaking as I turn the sword on myself. A sob pushes out of my lips at that, the sight so depressing and pathetic I just want to cry harder. "I'm sorry."

 _Sorry sorry sorry I just can't do it anymore I can't I can't I can't I can't I ca_

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Hi. I'm sorry. Torque would have been the choice to appease everyone as they were number one or two on everyone's lists, but in the end I just couldn't do it. It's partially a personal thing, partially an arc thing that caused me to end it like this. In the end, I just figured that they wouldn't be the best choice for Victor because they are only sixteen and could only handle so much. This breaks my heart to do, but I had to find a way to close this arc and chose to take it this direction.**_

 _ **We're down to two, and next chapter we will have our Victor, which is going to be neat. And, this time, I'm pretty positive who it's going to be, which is unusual for me. So hopefully I'll get the next chapter out soon, because after that chapter I'll also officially open submissions for my next partial, Traveller. So there are great and exciting things to come, which is nice.**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Were you surprised that Torque committed suicide? Was it realistic enough (AKA, did it feel too out from left field with the rest of their plotline)? Who is your Victor prediction?**_


	31. The Hall of Cards

_The twelfth night_

* * *

-Whimsy's POV-

I can just barely see the stars through the hole in the ceiling. From the Dark Woods, I spent some time hanging out by the pond. The first thing I noticed upon entering was the sad excuse for a trap that was laying on the ground by the entrance. The pile of rocks is still looming. Maybe it's there for a reason. Either way, the remnants, artifacts of this room's inhibitors really contribute to its history. The water is crystal clear, just as it's always been, trickling in gently.

I wish I could see the moon. I ache to be back home where I can see the real one.

Sleeping to the sound of the gentle water is easy. It's calm here, peaceful. I can see a star or two through the hole in the ceiling. I haven't been involved in a lot of action lately, which has given me time to recover. I was close to killing that Five girl, but I noticed the threat before she did. It was too late for her, but it wasn't for me. I ran. I got away. She died that day. I heard her screams but it was either her or me, and I have to get back home.

My hands are stained with blood, but so are theirs. So are all of ours. So are Mr. Kozart's, and so are President Snow's. I'm ready to see my family again. I'm ready to hug my sister and make a handshake with my brother. We always promised we would, but always put it off. Now, though, now I wish that we had. There are so many things I wish I'd done, and as soon as I get out of here I'm going to do them all. I'm going to make the most amazing post-Games bucket list and I'm going to do it all.

First, though, I have to win. I'm not totally out of the clear yet. Someone has to place third, and someone has to place second too. I want to win more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life. I don't want to die. I don't want Whimsy Chandler's story to end here. There's so much I still have to do, so much I have to see, so much I have at stake. The storybook can't close now. I'm not done yet.

I've had time to recover and now I'm ready for the trials that lay ahead.

I used to live away in my happy little bubble, not caring about a thing in the world. Now I know hurt. I know pain. I know heartbreak. I know sadness. I know depression. I know what it's like to fall on my knees and wonder if I can even keep going. I know revenge, real revenge. I know anger and I know pain and I know hurt and misery, and I know what it's like to cry, and to have a broken heart, I know what it's like to feel helpless, and hopeless. I know true fear, terror, horror. I know true darkness. I'm not the same Whimsy Chandler I was when I entered this godforsaken temple.

But now I know loyalty. Now I know friendship. Now I know how to pick myself back up. Now I know how to persevere, how to endure, how to tough out the worst of times. I know how it feels to mend, to heal, or, to start healing. I know what it's like to find a reason to live. I know what it's like to ache for home. I know how to count my blessings, I will never take anything in my life for granted again. I know gratefulness and humbleness. For the first time in my life, I know what it's like to be real. No longer am I going to be a trophy, no longer am I going to be a doll to be passed around, no longer am I going to throw my life away for people that, in the grand scheme, don't even matter. I know what it's like to be vulnerable, and I know what it's like to break down, for the first time totally unable to hide from the world. Now the entire nation knows exactly who I am. I'm Whimsy Chandler. I'm a girl with aspirations and hopes and dreams. I'm not happy all the time. I'm not pretty all the time. I'm a real person and I will never again forget that about myself.

I am real.

That's the most important lesson I learned since arriving here. I am human, and that's okay because so is everyone else in this world. I have ups and downs, but no matter what I will persevere. I have no other option.

I'm not perfect. I'm Whimsy Chandler and I'm perfectly imperfect.

I sleep lightly, not willing to give up my chance because I was asleep but also knowing I'll need the rest.

Suddenly, in the night, I hear a cannon. That makes me sit straight up, eyes wide open. A cannon. Someone died. Which means…

I rub my eyes, quickly reaching for my sword.

The finale.

My suspicions are confirmed when Torque's face flashes on the ceiling without the anthem.

Torque.

Torque died.

I can't believe it. That means that there's only one more person standing in my way.

Tempest.

An ally, a friend, a person I was hoping I would never have to face again. _How can I do this to her?_ I take a deep breath and clutch my spear as tightly as I can in my fist. I don't know where she is or what she's doing, but I know that they're going to end this Games tonight. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that. Then again, I'm not sure I have a choice.

Just then, the water starts to pour faster and more severely, splashing me as it rushes into the room. I know that the Gamemakers are going to get us wherever they want us to be, so I immediately start running. I run back out into the Dark Woods, where the water is already up to my knees. I wade through as fast as I can until I find the tunnel to the Shrine. The tunnel is quickly filling with water, which urges me to crawl faster and faster. I refuse to drown here. I keep going, my entire body sopping. I surface in the Shrine, where water pours out of the tunnel, filling the room quickly. It's up to my ankles.

Finally, I decide that the backpack on my back is only slowing me down and throw it down. All I have on me is my spear, the unicorn statue I'm using as a token, and the sponsor note I got while in the Games.

 _Remember what's important._

Getting home. My friends and family. My legacy. That's what's important. Me.

I wade through the Shrine, until I notice a tunnel high enough to not be touching the water. I notice no water is coming out of it, so I choose to go there next. By the time I hoist myself up in the tunnel, the water was up to my bellybutton. They're really not giving us enough time.

My lungs burn as I cough from the effort, heart pounding, but I keep going. I have no idea where this tunnel leads, but I keep going, as fast as I can. My adrenaline is pumping through the roof. Every little noise spooks me now, as I imagine everything is Tempest trying to kill me.

I practically fall out of the tunnel, my arms and legs throbbing with the effort of moving so fast and for so long when I'm so goddamn tired. I can't give up, though.

 _Remember what's important._

I will. I promise.

It takes a second to realize that the room I'm in isn't filling with water at all.

I take the time to breath a giant breath of relief.

I made it.

I wheeze a bit as I look around the room. It's a large, looming hallway. I walk through slowly, looking around, waiting for an attack.

On the walls are pictures of Victors. In order from First to Forty-Second. The portraits are very old-timey, though, and when I stop to inspect them, I notice that they're each marked with a suit and a letter, mostly Ks and Qs. There are a few Aces, of course. Platinum is an Ace, and so is Marlowe. I look at the Victor of the Twenty-Seventh Games, the Ace of Clubs. An odd choice for an Ace, I'd say. The fourth Ace is Bronx, his picture larger than the others. All of the Victors, from Gio the Joker to Luther the King, are slightly larger than the rest.

 _Solitaire. It's his homage to Solitaire._

Thinking about it that way is actually pretty emotional for me. Her legacy lives on after all. I'm sure it was intentional. I keep going, considering at the end of the hallway is a golden arch leading into another room.

On my way, I notice the picture across from Luther's, marked with 42. Each time I look at it, another tribute is displayed. First it's Monterey, then Winchester, and Ezie. It's funny to me that they mark Ezie as a fifth Ace. Don't they know how cards work? That laugh is choked off when I see Hartwin there. I turn away quickly. The next time I glance over, I see myself. I smile a bit at that before quickly heading into the next room, weapon raised as I'm ready to fight. Or, as ready as I'm going to be.

It's a throne room. The first thing I see is a group of thrones. Two of them are large, adult-sized, and there are also two smaller ones.

On the far side of the room I notice a giant face carved into the stone. Startled, I jump back, raising my weapon. What is that?! It doesn't move, and I eventually stand down. When I walk closer, I see a word carved under it. _Olmec_. I have no idea what it means, but before I can figure it out, I hear the wheezes of a drenched Tempest. She leans over to cough, a wet cough. She spits on the floor.

"The final battle begins!" a voice booms. Not Yin's voice, or Polymestor's or Caesar's. I jump, startled shitless. Tempest looks pretty thrown-off too, her eyes scanning the room.

"I don't want to do this Tempest…" I say, but I don't let my guard down. I don't have a choice and I know it.

"Sorry, Whimsy. But I didn't come here to place second," she says. "Give me your best fight."

I grit my teeth.

 _Remember what's important._

 _Alma. Brisk, Pygmy, Mom, Dad… District 1. Me._

"I will."

She charges at me with her sword and I defend with my spear, metal sliding against metal. It's funny, I always complained about that sound, when my brother would scrape his fork and knife together just to frustrate me. I thought I knew what it was like to be angry, but now I know that I always had it so good.

Tempest's attacks have an amazing amount of power and ferocity. Right off the bat she gets a good gash down my shoulder that immediately starts pouring out blood. I have to keep fighting though. My training has prepared me for this. Everything I went through up until this moment has led to this. I keep up defending, staying agile on my feet.

She seems a little worse-for wear, sporting cuts on her shoulder and one particularly nasty one right across her face.

I notice some of the places injuries were and immediately aim for them. In between her attacks, I jump out of the way and try to jab. Eventually it seems hopeless, but I keep on defending. I think, think of everything I ever learned in the Academy. Sparring was fun, my defense was always on-point, but now it's not fun, now's when it really matters. I find an opening and get a clean jab in on her shoulder, where she had clearly stitched up a cut. She howls out in pain, and in her second delay, I jab at her chest. She barely moves out of the way, my attack hitting her shoulder instead.

Suddenly, my feet start to feel wet, and I realize that the temple is going to keep flooding. Tempest seems to see that too. She has a determined look in her eyes.

"Catch me if you can." She takes off running, and I follow as quickly as I can. She goes back out into the room with the tomb in it, through which we both have to wade, and back to the pit. The holes are now totally full with water. Tempest jumps in and swims with all her might, and I follow her quickly. I'm lucky I learned how to swim before getting here. She's obviously much more of a natural, but I stay on her tail as best as I can. We both go back through the lobby, where the water is up to my shoulders and quickly rising. As fast as I can, I follow Tempest outside, where I gasp with the effort of running so much. Tempest is doubled over, panting, coughing. The places I got her are pouring blood, and I feel it pumping out of the gashes she left on me.

She barely even pauses, relentlessly jumping into another attack. I wouldn't expect anything less from the so-called Golden Child of course. I defend as best as I can, keeping a tight grip on my spear. She attacks strongly and quickly, even though she's injured, and I push her off the best I can. She gets another hit in, this time a stab through my shoulder, but I know I can't pause to feel it. I thought I knew pain, but nothing can compare to this.

Blood pours out of my shoulder, and I stay on defense, trying to find another opening for offense. This time, though, she isn't letting anything open up. She knows how to fight and she's going to keep fighting until I give up.

Too bad for her I'm not giving up any time soon. I keep defending, moving out of the way, but I know I'm not going to be able to take much more of this. I start down the stairs and she follows, the clanking and sliding of metal against metal never stopping. She lands another strike, but she doesn't get close to anything lethal thanks to my good old right titty. A real champ, that one is.

My hands start to shake and I know that if we don't end this soon, they're going to send something worse on us. I don't want either of us to have to suffer a mutt death. Tempest's attacks grow slower as she starts to lose energy, and I thank whatever's up there for so much time spent on defense.

Finally, she sets her face in a determined expression, and charges at me, full-speed. Obviously just as ready to end this as I am, even if it means taking a ginormous risk. She raises the sword to strike as she charges closer to me. Suddenly, my mind flies back to Training against Fortune. She pulled this very same move and took me out.

I saw an opening, and thrusted the spear forward with all my might before she could slam down her sword. A shrill gasp escapes her as she collapses on the floor, the handle of my spear sticking out of her stomach. She gets up, sword still raised, still trying to fight, but it's futile and she knows it.

My whole body shakes as I look up at the huge temple. I feel so incredibly small. Tears pool in my eyes.

Tempest stares up at me, her eyes pouring out tears.

"I'm so sorry." My voice quivers as it comes out in a tiny whisper. I mean it, too.

She takes the spear out of her chest silently, gasping and crying out in pain.

Tears pour out of my eyes. "I can end your suffering if you want-" I start, but she cuts me off.

"Look Whimsy. The sun is rising."

She's right. It is.

The orange sun illuminates a pink sky, scattered perfectly with periwinkle clouds. It rises slowly as night turns to morning. Tears roll out of Tempest's eyes, but she doesn't look away from the sky.

"I'll be with you soon, my darling," she says quietly, a sob pushing out of her lips. "You were worth it. Punk. You and I… We'll be happy. I'll bet there's a lot of pistachio ice cream up there in heaven. And all the oranges you want."

Tears roll down my cheeks and I don't try to stop them.

" _My sunrise."_

Those are her last words. She closes her eyes and when I glance down, I notice that her face is serene. Calm. Different from the defiant girl I met on that first day.

Her cannon booms as the sun reaches its peak, bringing the Arena into daytime.

* * *

 _The thirteenth day_

* * *

"Everyone, the Victor of the Forty-Second Hunger Games… Whimsy Chandler!"

I feel the sun on my face and realize that I've won. Quivering and shivering, wounds pouring out blood, I've won. I let out a sob of relief. It's partially a sob, partially a laugh.

Remember what's important. Those are words I will live by, I will never forget them. I'm going to make the best bucket list and I'm going to do everything on it and I'm going to make a change in this world for the better. I've been given the chance of a lifetime and I'm never going to give it up or take it for granted.

I realize suddenly that I must look pathetic, so I give the nation a smile. For my family. For my friends.

 _For Alma. And Ezie. And Tempest. For all of them._

The hovercraft comes down and I wave to the nation before I grab the ladder and freeze in place. It pulls me up and I know that everything is going to be okay. Somehow. I'm Whimsy Chandler.

As soon as I'm up, the first person I see is my mentor, waiting for me with open arms. I run to him, body still shaking, lungs still burning, eyes still pouring out tears, and throw my arms around him.

"Welcome back," he says, holding me tightly. I can't even respond, I'm far too overwhelmed by emotions as I clutch onto him and cry into his shoulder. There's still so much for me to do. I'm going to get started the moment I touch foot back in District One. I'm going to be one of the greatest Victors Panem has ever seen. Watch out, you're all gonna see me in history books. I'm gonna be the Victor that everyone mentions in the next story. Just you wait.

"Congratulations!" Angelique says, clapping her hand. She makes a face when I try to go near her, though. I'm still shaking a bit as I'm taken back to the operating room.

"Just close your eyes," says a kind-looking doctor that puts an IV in my arm. "When you wake up, you'll be on your way to your Victor's Presentation."

Victor's Presentation.

Whimsy Chandler, the Victor of the 42nd Hunger Games.

Whimsy the Victor.

Whimsy the girl who nobody thought would make it because she wasn't Tempest. Whimsy the girl who cried, Whimsy the girl who shut down, Whimsy the girl that got back up on her feet, Whimsy the girl that won the Hunger Games.

I beam ear-to-ear as the drugs pull me into a hazy, dark sleep.

 _I'm not gonna let you all down._

~.~.

 _ **A/N: I am literally typing this through glasses stained with water droplets because I was literally, LITERALLY sobbing as I was writing the end of the fight. I very rarely cry at what I write, and it's even rarer that I cry IN THE MIDDLE of writing something, but it was just right. The music was right, the scene was right, and it absolutely broke my heart. Tempest, I thought for a while that you were going to be my first D4 Victor from a story, but it just wasn't right.**_

 _ **Confession Time: Whimsy was supposed to die, like, before Wyatt XD And the reason she didn't was because I felt bad and didn't want to kill another Dreamer character before giving her a real chance. At first she didn't seem like she would stand out among the other, much more dynamic characters, but she did. I resolved to let her live as long as/longer than Bellona. But then I just… I fell in love with this character. I didn't want to make her another London or another Empress. I wanted to take this girl places. So I did. I found her Victor's song (Hallelujah by Panic! At the Disco, btw) and knew I wanted to take her all the way. It was between her and Torque for a while, but I knew for a while that Tempest would get second (sorry Legend XD I just knew exactly what I wanted to do with Whimsy in a way that I didn't know what to do for Tempest. I thought her arc ended nicely on the Ezie note, and Whimsy still has much to do and many places to go.) Plus, the irony of Tempest getting second killed me. Her death was written totally on a whim (omg no) but that was what I was bawling at because it was just so sad.**_

 _ **Anyways, that's just a lot of rambling. We officially have a Victor and I couldn't be happier with how this chapter turned out. I hope you all enjoyed it and were satisfied with the outcome.**_

 _ **There are officially three more updates for this story before it's over! I can't believe it! Next chapter is her Victor presentation, then District epilogues, then the final epilogue!**_

 _ **Also, the form for Traveller is going to go up soon, maybe today or tomorrow, but submissions will be open a while because I still have stuff to do for both this story and Danzón! Anyways, thank you all for the amazing ride, and I can't wait to write more of my precious District One daughter and Victoress and, of course, touch on the friends and family of the deceased! See ya then!**_


	32. Victory

-Yin's POV-

I'm still alive. That's good. I mean, I'm not totally off the hook yet, but I'm still alive. The Games ended yesterday and Whimsy is being prepared for her Victor's interview. I turned in my retirement papers to President Snow, but they haven't been approved yet. The Games just ended, of course, I'm far from off the hook. My hands shake as my styling team swarms around me.

"Relax Mr. Kozart, you look fine!"

 _That's not what's important. My sons. My babies. My twins._ I just swallow hard and say, "Just nerves."

"Oh, no problem! You look great and you're going to have a killer interview!" The girl that's putting concealer on my face is young. Her eyes were synthetic teal, and they still had this spark in them, this joy, this innocent young woman in her prime that has no idea what it's like to have a broken heart. She has no idea what it's like to constantly be worried about your life, and the lives of your children. She has no idea what it's like to miss someone today just as much as you missed them last year. My Solitaire. She was the Queen of my heart and when she was killed she took it with her. My boys still might end up orphans and there is nothing I can do to stop that.

But she wouldn't know that. Her biggest worry is how she looks. I wish I could go back to the day when I was the same way.

My prep team escorts me to the waiting area backstage and leaves me alone. I have nothing to do. I just stare at my hands quietly. The calloused, hard-working hands that spent hours putting in code, making drawings, refining, testing, checking, organizing… The wedding ring on my finger that makes me think of her every time I see it. I stick them in my pockets, feeling the small flash drive that contains loose files, ideas that never made it to light, information and details. If I get to retire, I'll get to give it to the next person to take up the torch. But first… I have to give a good interview.

I'm not really nervous being in front of the camera. Honestly, I never have been. After all, I started my Games career as an interviewer, so the camera is like an old friend. It took so long conditioning me not to swear in front of the camera, so long to build up the perfect stage presence, it took so long but I did it, and those things don't escape too early. Of course the interview does make me a little nervous. That one little puff of stage fright will never really go away. But all of the fear in my chest is relating to my life. To my boys.

Caesar is currently buttering up an over-the-moon Capitol crowd. He's hyping them up as I wait for my appearance, and then for an interview with the Victor of my Games, Whimsy. It was really a valiant effort, that Tempest made, she wanted to end the battle. It was unfortunate for her that Whimsy knew how to counter that ballsy attack. At least she died happy. That's how I would want to go out, if I had to. I can only hope I don't have to. I wiped out Ezie before he was anything more than _suspicious._ I took out Beo in the same sweep. I think I did everything I possibly could to give myself the best chance at living, getting back to my children.

"Next up, everyone please welcome the one who made all of this possible… Mister Yin Kozart."

My cue. I take one more deep breath before I step out on the stage, waving to the crowd as the applause practically blows me away. I keep the calm smile on my face, though. Luckily, I'm used to the cheering as I've been up on that stage before, interviewing Solitaire. I shake Caesar's hand and sit next to him.

Solitaire and I always used to hold hands, every time I did a post-Games interview. It started the very first time I interviewed her. She never let go of my hand and neither of us really noticed. But it was nice. From there it just became tradition. I loved to hold her hands. They were always so slender, dainty, smooth and soft. But, most importantly, she was home. When I was holding her hand, everything was going to be okay. Being here, up on this stage, on the other side, without Solitaire's hand in mine, I just feel so naked. But, of course, I keep the smile on my face and keep my composure, just like always.

"Yin, it must be odd, being on the other side of this conversation!" Caesar said whole-heartedly.

"Yeah, it is definitely strange," I say, laughing a bit.

"Well, you've worked hard and now you're up here living the dream! What was the experience like?"

"Hectic, that's for sure. Being a Head Gamemaker while being a single father to two baby boys… I don't know if that's the life for me." The audience coos in understanding.

"Well, either way, you provided us all with a great Games!" The crowd immediately started applauding in agreement.

"Thank you," I say. "My crew really helped me through. I couldn't have done it without any of them." More applause.

"Well, according to President Snow's report, our dear Mr. Kozart is retiring to care take care of his boys. Why don't we thank him for his work both as an Interviewer and a Head Gamemaker through the years?"

The crowd applauded, and the grin that spread across my face was real. It was so real. I'm safe, I'm going to retire, I'm going to be with my boys. I could jump with joy right now. The weight of the world has been lifted off of my shoulders. I'm going to be there to watch them grow up. I'm going to be there for my boys, they're not going to be orphans. I'm going to be there. I take a deep breath, unable to control my sheer excitement, relief happiness.

"It was an honor to serve in the Games." I say. A lie, of course, but a well-told one. I've certainly gotten good at that.

"So, let's talk about your handiwork!" Caesar says, launching into the next part of the interview.

.

-Whimsy's POV-

I feel physically better when I wake up, but my euphoria at the thought of coming back home and winning the Games has totally disappeared. Twenty-three are dead, twenty-three families are mourning and I'm the one that came out alive. I have no idea how I'm going to face any of them. I took lives. The thought that I'm a murderer doesn't sit very well.

Angelique is sitting by me when I decide to wake up for good, rubbing my eyes groggily. Not exactly the person I wanted to see.

"Oh, finally you're awake! You have lots of prep to go through before you'll be ready to take that stage again!"

I sigh and stretch, but she grabs my wrist and pulls me up. "Huh?"

"Come on, we have to go now."

The last thing my tired body wants to do is move, much less be styled for an interview in front of the entire nation, but I don't fight it. They take me to a new prep room, where my team gets to work. I have to admit that it is comforting, to brush my teeth after so long and get a proper hair-cut, not to mention being able to shower and not be nervous the whole nation is watching. I feel a bit like a zombie, but while I sit in the bathtub full of stinky hair removal liquid, I get to have some breakfast. Once I eat, I feel more awake, cooperating as my prep team does my nails and hair.

I try to be excited for this. It's my Victor's interview after all! But I just can't make myself feel anything but the churning pit of depression trapped inside of my stomach.

Even when I'm put in the prettiest red ballgown I've ever seen, much less had the honor of wearing, and my make-up is done perfectly, I can't feel anything.

My prep team steps back, allowing me to see myself in the mirror. Probably trying to get a smile or something out of me, as I haven't really talked that much all morning. When I look into the mirror, I realize that I look just like the Whimsy I was before coming in. Blond hair free of dirt, put back in its usual side ponytail, make-up hiding any blemishes, shiny red lips that begged to be kissed, no bags under my eyes, nails done just right and all dressed up for the moment of her life. I wish I felt like the old Whimsy. But I know, now I know, that I will never be the same person I was before stepping foot into that temple.

"Well?" one of them asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, it's… Wonderful. Thank you." I give them as real of a smile as I can manage. It feels totally phony, but they seem to buy it, because they all exchange excited looks. They probably have no idea how hollow I feel right now. Lucky them. So perfectly ignorant.

"I think you're ready!" someone says, and I just give a nod as two of them take my hands and start walking me to the waiting area.

Platinum is waiting for me there. He looks concerned about me, but relaxes when he sees that I look healthy and my eyes aren't red from crying. Yin Kozart is currently up on the stage, being interviewed about the hell he created. I have to look away to prevent from letting my anger show. I should be able to help it, but I just can't.

"You look…"

"Like I'm not a wreck?" I fill in, laughing a bit through the veil of sadness that threatens to drown me.

"I was going to say beautiful, but yes, you look put-together too."

I laugh a little bit. "Any last advice for me?"

"Hm… Don't say anything stupid."

I give him a sarcastically disgruntled look and say flatly, "Great advice, _Grandpa_. I'll try not to."

That causes him to laugh too, eyes twinkling. "They're just about to announce you, I think."

Sure enough, the crowd is applauding uproariously for Yin, who gives a polite smile and waves.

"Alright Panem, now it's time for the moment you've all been waiting for! Please give it up for the Victor of the 42nd Hunger Games, Whiiiiimsy Chandler!"

I give my mentor one last nod, taking a deep breath and stepping out on the stage.

The applause practically blows me away. Caesar takes my hand and holds it up high, causing me to break into a real smile for once. Deep down, I know I don't deserve their applause, but I know that I can't think about that now. I just have to keep in a good mindset so I don't break down in front of the nation. Yeah. That would not be good.

I stand tall as President Snow comes and puts the Victor's crown on my head.

"Congratulations, Miss Chandler," he says.

I swallow my anger, hatred, my grief. Instead I just put on a smile and gently trill, "Thank you, Mr. President Sir." The crowd applauds as the President steps off to the side and Caesar takes my hand, presenting me to the crowd, which only causes the cheering, screaming, and applause to get even louder. It's a bit overwhelming, really. I have to close my eyes and focus on feeling my heart beating, my lungs breathing. I'm alive. I made it out alive.

"Welcome back Whimsy!" The crowd keeps applauding, and I smile gratefully.

"Thank you so much, Caesar. It's… So good to be back."

"So, you went through quite a struggle in your Games! Luckily, though, you persevered, in true District One fashion!" The crowd keeps applauding. Soon, my happiness starts to fade, back into the quiet, depressed grief. I know I don't deserve their applause. I don't deserve any of it.

"Yes, the Arena strengthened me. Made me a better person." I don't know if I believe that, but I want the grieving families to know that I'm grieving right beside them. I want them to know that I didn't win for nothing, that I'm not going to waste the life I've been given.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful!" Caesar says, having to yell slightly over the crowd. "So, Whimsy, what was the biggest motivation for you?"

"My home," I say. Not totally a lie, I suppose. Vengeance for Alma can kind of tie into the whole concept of home. Plus, getting home and living was a big motivation, too. "My family and friends. My future."

The crowd still applauds, and I just keep smiling politely, even though I want to run away, run away and never have to see the horrors that happened when I wasn't looking, especially the horrors that happened when I was.

"Well, you were the perfect combination of beauty, strength, smarts, and luck for sure! What's in the future for you?"

"I'm going to keep living my life," I say. "I'm going to use this gift I've been lucky enough to keep and use it to the fullest." The crowd applauds.

"Oh, so sweet! Alright, before we watch the highlights is there anything you'd like to say to the nation?"

"I'd say… Count your blessings. It's easy to forget how lucky you are."

"Well put! Now, let's see the footage of the Games!"

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the carnage that is to come as the Capitol seal flashes on the screen and reveals the sunny District One Square. I watch myself volunteer, that spark in my eyes, having no idea what was going to come, what was going to happen to me. My chariot ride and interviews went by, all the while a feeling of dread festering in my gut. I wish I could save my younger self from the hell I had no idea was coming. I hate my younger self. She had no idea what she volunteered for.

The screen changed to a view of the temple, in all of its horrible, amazing glory. I take a deep breath as I see me on the screen. I can't believe how excited I look. It's humiliating.

The bloodbath begins. I watch Tomer be killed by Ezie as we arrive at the Cornucopia, each of us grabbing a weapon of choice. Bellona injures Winchester and I make myself watch as Isa, Lindsay, and Amy sneak up to the Cornucopia. My heart beats hard in my chest as I'm not sure I can watch myself take a fifteen-year-old's life. Soon, though, I realize that I don't have a choice. I watch as the spear leaves my hand and cleanly strikes through her back, sticking out of her stomach as she collapses, her face frozen in shock. Lindsay's scream is something that will never leave my nightmares or my memories. It's cut short by Bellona's sword stabbing her. Alma kills Amy, Branden kills Linnea, and I have to watch, watch and not crack at all. Beo punches Tempest in the face, causing her to chase him in a rage until Ezie calms her down. Beo kills Abigail on the steps up to the temple, cackling as he goes. I resist the urge to look away, trying to keep the easy smile on my face. It becomes harder and harder to uphold. Tempest throws her knife and I notice that Aaron pushes Monterey out of the way, taking the blow for her and crumpling to the ground. Ezie kills Monterey soon after, but I can practically feel my heart break. He died for her. And it was totally pointless.

They show us on that first night, chatting and laughing together, and my heart beats harder. I just want to run away and cry. My hands shake and I ball them into fists. They're all dead and I'm not.

They show Beo that night, killing Sondra mercilessly, reveling in her screams. When he's done, he quickly smears some of her blood on his face. I feel like I'm going to be sick, my stomach convulsing, but I can't look away. I just clench my teeth and do my best to keep the tears away from my eyes.

The next day, we go into the Shrine, that goddamn cursed Shrine, with that stupid monkey sitting up on that podium. I watch them killing Winchester, while I dive to catch the stupid monkey, the monkey that isn't fully put together yet, that captured my curiosity.

I watch Sequoia get bitten by a snake, tempted more than anything to look away as her allies are panicking over her convulsing body.

The next tribute to die is Wyatt, who crawls into the dungeon. Beo is waiting. I don't want to watch, but I have to. I blink tears away from my eyes, not letting them escape as the silent tribute screams loudly.

Next is the worst, though. In the night, Alma and I are awake, and I have to watch the boy from District Ten sneak up, silently, and stab my District partner. Watching it is just as horrible as I thought it would be. I feel my eyes puddle with tears, and this time I can't stop them from rolling down my cheeks this time. It still hurts so bad. The wound that was healing has been reopened. I sniffle and glance away for a second. Watching myself break down is almost worse than watching my friend die. It's just pathetic, absolutely pathetic. Part of me died that day. My innocence died with him. Watching Ezie calm me down, my allies coax me to move, is so painful. Having to watch Ezie stand up for me, after I was almost killed by my allies, is just so painful.

Next, Trekker and Elias run into Torque and Static. Torque, in the smoke of a bomb, kills Trekker with nothing but a rock, causing my stomach to turn. I don't look away. The tears are drying on my cheeks, and I pray that no more will fall.

Next, though, it's the alliance falling. I don't want to believe that Ezie would betray us. I bite my lip, preparing myself for the worst. Branden is the one to betray the alliance, though. He's the one that tries to make Tempest kill Ezie. He puts pressure on her, but before anything can happen, Ezie wakes up. He kills Branden just as we wake up, and he and Tempest run away together. I can't help but feel slightly relieved that Ezie wouldn't turn on me. I considered him a friend, and learning that he betrayed us would have crushed me. The thought certainly crushed me at the time.

Next, they show Torque abandoning Static, and Beo leaving the dungeon, where they meet at the tomb. I watch as Torque talks their way out of Beo killing them. Then, Bellona and I split.

The next thing is Static's death. I have to watch her yell at Torque, who turns on her and sends her tumbling down the pit. My legs shake and I swallow a lump in my throat, but luckily I get a moment of relief as they show the interviews with my family and friends. Seeing them makes me realize how much I miss them and can't wait to get home to them.

I wish that it would just go by fast and easy, but the hardest was yet to come. I watch Elias killed by Ezie and Tempest. I watch myself kill Hartwin and smash the monkey statue after. I look so horribly pathetic, I hate watching it.

I watch mutts take Beo and Torque, and Ezie and Tempest soon join the scene. I have to watch Ezie being rampaged by the batt mutts. Eventually, he ended his suffering by jumping off the pit, Tempest's pained screams and cries filling the room. More tears pour out of my eyes. I really wasn't ready to watch him die. Beo's death is slow and Torque is there with him, which doesn't help the tears that continue to flow down my cheeks. I refuse to look away, though.

Next, I watch Bellona attack Torque. Instead of giving her a fair fight, though, they went around the room and extinguished all the torches, leaving them in the dark. The cameras adjusted so we could see the fight in all its glory, as they stabbed Bellona and she fell. I bite my tongue hard to keep from sobbing, but my body is shaking with tears.

That night, Torque breaks down. They keep mumbling, "I'm scared" and end up rocking back and forth. Before I know it, they've turned their blade on themself. My heart pounds in my chest. I want to shout at them not to do it. It absolutely breaks my heart. Regardless, I have to watch it happen. I have to look away so I can sob quietly away from the microphone. How did I survive and someone like them didn't?

Next, was the Hall of Cards, and the final battle with Tempest. I watch us fight on the screen. I know how it's going to end, but watching it is absolutely horrible. The wound is still fresh. I watch us escape the flooding temple, fighting with everything we had. Finally, the battle ended when Tempest charged and I countered her attack. I watch her die again, watching the sun rise and looking peaceful as she breathed her last breath.

I do everything not to sob as Caesar presents me to the roaring crowd one last time. I walk off the stage, smiling through my tears and waving. The second I'm out of the public eye, I run, run as fast as I can, back to my prep room, where I collapse with nothing but the poofy skirt of my dress for comfort as I burst into uncontrollable sobs.

~.~.

 _The Victory Tour_

-Whimsy's POV-

The Victory Tour is hard for me considering I spent so much time before the Games trying to forget the other tributes even had names. Since getting back, I've tried to learn as much about them as possible. I don't want to lose them. The best way to learn about them, though, is definitely going to be through the Victory Tour. I'm not sure I'm ready, but I don't have a choice.

I'm sitting on the train, staring out the window as blurs of green and blue fly past. I miss my home already, home with my brother and sister, home with my friends. I miss my home, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to speak on behalf of twenty-three other tributes, many of which I barely even knew a thing about.

The Tour starts in District Twelve. I don't get too long to watch the colors come out the window before I'm being taken back by my prep team to be dressed up and made ready to face District Twelve. They want me to have a more refined, natural look for my talking in the Districts, which I appreciate. Not long after my prep team has me ready, we're pulling into the station. My heart pounds in the chest, nerves starting to take over. I'm lucky that I didn't interact with or kill Monterey or Aaron, at least that makes it a little bit easier. But not by much.

Angelique, Platinum, and I are loaded into a truck, where we're taken back to the Justice Building. There, I barely have time to relax before I hear my name being announced.

I close my eyes, heart pounding, and take a deep breath. The speech has been written for me, all I have to do is just read it off the cards and I'll be fine. I step out on the stage, putting on a smile. Since the end of the Games, I've gotten better at keeping a fake, genuine-looking smile.

I stand in front of a silent crowd. They're pale, thin, with faces set in distaste at a squeaky clean Career stepping foot in their District. I want to learn from them, though. I want to live the life that Monterey and Aaron might have lived.

I make a point to have the courage to look at the tributes' families. Monterey's family is small, just two exhausted-looking parents. It's the same story for Aaron. I read the provided speech on the card. When the words on the card run out, though, I can't help adding in just one thing.

"I will always admire Monterey's imagination. And… I will always, _always_ admire Aaron's sacrificing himself for a friend." I keep the tears back. "I can only hope that someday I am half as creative and half as selfless as Aaron." I receive a plaque from the mayor and nod thankfully. It's not long at all before I'm back on the train, on my way to District Eleven. After changing into a simple orange dress and having my make-up touched up, I have time to watch out the window. Maybe I shouldn't have added onto the cards, but I couldn't control myself. I already know that there's nothing I can say to console their families' pain and grief. But if there's something I can say to reassure them, I'll try it. Maybe they're just mad, maybe they think I have no right to say that about their children. I don't know. Everyone grieves differently, including me.

District Eleven is sunny, and I'm sweating almost from the second I exit the train. Another van takes us to the Justice Building. I do get to talk to the mayor briefly, but he doesn't seem much in the mood to talk. Soon, he's making his speech, and announcing me. I take another deep breath.

Elias's side has two exhausted-looking parents. On Amy's, two parents and a little girl, couldn't be older than Pygmy. My heart drops to the pit of my stomach as I start to read what's on the card.

"I didn't talk to either tribute, but they left an impact on me. I hope someday I can be as kind as Amy. And… No matter how hard I try, I don't know if I'll ever even be half as bright as Elias. I swallow a lump in my throat and accept the bouquet and plaque gratefully.

The next District is Ten. This is probably one of the ones that I'm dreading the most. After all, they all saw me kill Hartwin. I will never be able to convince anyone that I'm not guilty of it. I'm changed into a lace, off-white dress with a matching parasol. I feel sick to my stomach, thinking about going there and facing his family. I watched their final eight interviews. They probably miss him to no end.

I want to explore the District, but I don't get the chance as I'm whisked out to the stage before I have much time to collect my bearings. Lindsay's side has two parents and an older boy, possibly out of reaping age. They look upset. I start reading before I have the courage to look up. It takes a while for me to force myself to look up. His parents are there. His oldest sister, Court, glares at me as I speak. Mia just looks confused, but still sad.

"I don't know what to say," I say quietly, once the words on the card have run out. "I just… I hope that someday I can be as compassionate as Lindsay. And as… Loyal as Hartwin." Do they know how sorry I am? Do they know I wish I had never done it? Or do they just think I'm a faker. I don't know.

I accept their gifts as well. Soon, we're on our way to District Nine. I have absolutely no idea what to expect there. I'm changed into a purple dress and spend the rest of the ride looking out the window. We arrive there, but I don't move when the train stops. I don't want to go out there. When Angelique comes to fetch me, though, I stand up and go with her. The rainclouds have started to form. The last thing I want is for it to rain on these poor people.

Linnea's side has two worn-down parents. Beo's has two, a boy with messy red hair who stands next to a young girl with blonde hair. Nik, that is, his ex, and his sister. My eyes start to pool up at that sight, knowing that wherever he is, Beo can rest knowing that he's been forgiven. I forgive him too.

I speak from the cards, feeling an odd sense of peace mix with my grief and sadness.

"Someday, I want to be as humble as Linnea. And, if I'm lucky, I'll be as brave as Beo, the boy who's scattered into the stars." I smile with misty eyes as I receive the honors from District and sparse applause from the sad crowd.

District Eight is next. I'm changed into wintery clothes for it, and the ride isn't that long. I feel like there's less and less time to recover between Districts, but I have to keep it together. Soon it'll be over and I'll be back home.

District Eight has some light flurries flowing. I feel like the worst person, in my comfortable winter clothes while many of them don't even have a good coat. Trekker's side has two parents and a small boy, probably his little brother Brister. The boy is wrapped in a coat far too big for him, but I just feel relieved he has one. He looks miserable, though, and I see tears running down his cheeks. I quickly look away.

Abigail's side has an attractive older boy, a girl that can't be older than 13, and a little sister. They don't look happy, but they don't look quite sad, either, which is just a bit eerie to me. I can't imagine a family so passively accepting the death of one of their own, especially one so young.

I read through the speech quickly, not wanting to keep these people outside in this cold for any longer than they have to be.

"Someday, I hope that I can be as honest as Abigail, and just as passionate as Trekker." I quickly take the trophy from District Eight and hurry past the train. On my hasty way out, I'm thrown backwards after being very deliberately bumped into.

I look up and see teary, red, greenish brown eyes.

"Sorry Bronx-"

He doesn't say anything, pushing past me and rushing off the stage.

Angelique clicks her tongue, but I want to go after him. I want to apologize to him, try to do something to make up for it or help him, I know he's lost so much, but I can't. Angelique grumbles about how we're behind schedule as we start speeding off to District Seven.

I watch as the flurries fly past my window. So far, so good. I haven't cried yet, which is a personal achievement I didn't think I would reach.

District Seven is a sad place. The crowd didn't seem so intent on me. I make eye-contact with Luther, who gives me a nod. I hope that I can get to know him someday. I've been so busy in these first six months that I haven't had much time to do anything.

Sequoia's side is so, so crowded. She has two parents, another, younger couple, probably her sister and her husband, a girl and boy who were reaping age, and another girl and boy, probably the twins she'd talked about in the Arena and during her interview. I couldn't remember all their names, and I was mad about that. I had tried so hard to memorize as many as possible. Only the youngest two had coats that looked like they could protect from the cold, the others wearing thin jackets, many with holes in them.

Tomer's side has two parents, an older teenage boy and a younger teenage girl. They both look upset, the boy particularly looking devastated. I read the speech quickly. Just last year they had been celebrating this time. Now we were here.

"I admire both your tributes. Someday I want to be just as insightful as Tomer, and as good of a sister as Sequoia." I make eye-contact with Luther again as I'm presented with a plaque and a medal.

I spend the whole train ride to District Six reassuring myself that I'm almost halfway there. _Almost halfway there, almost halfway_ … This can't be over soon enough, especially because I killed on of District Six's tributes.

I make my speech quickly. On Wyatt's side is an older, tired-looking woman, a mid-teenage girl with her face buried in her mother's shoulder, and a younger boy who looks to be trying hard to hold in tears. On Isa's side, two miserable parents and three older-looking boys.

I read the speech quickly. Her brothers were varying degrees of angry, but they all looked upset.

"Someday, I hope to be as observant as Wyatt, and as confident as Isa." I can't say anything else without feeling like a total loser, so I just nod and receive the winnings, ducking off of the stage.

I have to spend the whole train ride to District Five preparing myself for this goddamn speech. I'm not ready. I have no idea what I can say to make it up to these poor, hurting people. There's absolutely nothing I can say, and I know it, but I can't help feeling like I should be able to help.

Static's side has two parents, an older teen boy and a younger teen boy. They look varying degrees of upset and angry. Torque's side has two parents. Tears pour out of their mother's eyes. There's a young teen girl, Fiona, who is sobbing and clutching her mother's shirt. The nine-year-old, Ree, is wearing a little knit hat, and holding the hand of the youngest, Kyria. All of them are crying. I can't imagine what this must be like for them, having Torque come so close.

I read the speech quickly. I know there's nothing I can say to make it up to them. Nothing I can say to explain why I'm here and their loved ones aren't.

"Your tributes inspired me." My eyes pool with tears, and I do my best not to let them fall. "Someday, I want to be as headstrong and self-assured as Static. And, of course, someday I want to be as perfectly snarky as Torque. They always had great clap-backs." I try to make the family smile, but it only brings more pain. I nod and leave the stage quickly after receiving a medal and a plaque.

Before I know it, we're on our way to District Four. After I'm changed into a light pink dress, out of the winter clothes, I'm staring out the window, my mind wandering, trying desperately to forget how I watched the light leave Tempest's eyes, how I killed her. My hands shake rapidly as I sit on the train and look out the window. I can't cry. Not here, not now, not yet.

I'm almost ready to panic when the train stops. I can't. I can't go back out there…

"Hey." I look up and see Platinum there. "You ready?"

"N-No…"

"You can do it. Just a few more."

"They're the hardest ones, though…" My voice shakes a bit.

"I know," he says quietly.

I get up, sighing quietly, and walk out. I thought the air of the sea would be calming, just like Tempest said. But it's just… Terrifying. I feel like I'm going to panic as the mayor announces me and I step out on the stage.

Branden's side had a mother, and a teenage brother. I start reading the card through misty eyes. I'm almost done with the speech before I have the courage to look at Tempest's family. Her parents are hugging, tears rolling down her mother's face. Her younger brother Lee is watching me with teary eyes, trying his best to hold them back.

The second I see them all, I know the tears can't be held back anymore. My voice quivers as I finish the speech.

"I am so, so thankful to have had the opportunity to work with both Tempest and Branden. They both added so much to the experience." I look away from the microphone to sniffle quietly. "Someday, I hope to be as competitive as Branden, and just as passionate as Tempest." I don't try to wipe the tears away. Instead I just bow my head, trying to pretend they're tears of happiness as I receive flowers from two excited little kids before boarding the train.

Once I'm there, Platinum gives me some tissues to wipe my nose with and dab at my eyes. My prep team clicks their tongues as they touch up my make-up. Soon, I'm on my way to District Three, trying to get control of the tears.

"Almost there," Platinum says gently, and I just nod.

District Three is a dim, smoggy place, that part hits me in the face as soon as we arrive.

Winchester's side has a pair of parents that both looked upset and two mid-teenage girls. On Sondra's side there were two parents. The mother was sobbing into her husband's chest, which broke my heart. I read through the speech quickly, not wanting to keep them there too long.

"I admire your tributes very much. Someday, I hope that I can see the beauty of the world just as much as Winchester. And, well, I hope I can be just as beautiful, inside and out, as Sondra." I accept the gifts from the mayor and quickly duck away, back on the train that's become my safe haven.

 _One more District left. Well, two. Three if I count the Capitol. Wow. No, I can just… It's fine… I'll be fine._

District Two looks like a really nice place. When I arrive, I'm greeted with applause. Applause I don't deserve, but it certainly feels better than the silence I've been greeted with everywhere else. I force a smile, putting up a hand to wave.

On Bellona's side, a couple, her Uncle and Aunt, two older girls I don't recognize, her cousin Corona, and her little brother Mars. Ezie's side has a couple, Eddie and Pontius, who look fairly sad. I can't just let this go… Even after the card ends, I keep going.

"I am so honored to have been able to spend time with Bellona and Ezie. Ezie saved my life. What can I say? Without him, I wouldn't be here today. He picked me up when I was down. I will always be thankful for that. And Bellona was so admirable. Someday, I hope that I can be as… As noble as Ezie. And definitely as ambitious as Bellona. I am so glad to have met them and to know them, and I will forever be in tremendous debt to them. They brought honor to District Two, as they fought courageously until the very end."

The crowd applauds wildly, and I smile as I receive a bouquet of flowers from a beaming little blond girl and a plaque from a proud boy with short, brown hair.

Then, I get on the train that speeds off to the Capitol. Now, I'm changed into a lilac ballgown, my hair is styled up, and I'm made up to look like a princess. I put on the most charming smile I can as we arrive at the President's Mansion. My stomach rumbles as I realize how hungry I am for dinner.

The night is brisk, but it's not long before Angelique and I enter the huge, elegant building together. Soon, music starts and I immediately head to the buffet. After declining the liquid that makes you puke no less than three different times, I get to eat my dinner in peace. Once my stomach is full, I'm in a much better mood. I go out to the dance floor, where I dance with many different Capitolites, so many I forget their names. I have a little bit of champagne and feel in much brighter spirits.

Before I know, I feel a tap on my shoulder. When I look up, it's my mentor.

"Hey," he says. "You seem in a better mood."

"Yeah, a bit," I say.

"Good to see. Well, I always like to take new Victors for a dance." He puts out a hand to join me. "Surely you wouldn't break tradition."

"We'll see if you can keep up with me," I say, a grin spreading across my face as I add, "Grandpa."

He laughs loudly and takes me out on the floor, where a lively waltz is playing.

"Congratulations on your Victory, of course," he says. I notice Dutch and Marlowe dancing together and smile. For being sixty years old Platinum is quite a good dancer. I don't really know how to waltz, so the speed is casual and easy for my feet to pick up on.

"Thank you."

"Do you know what you're going to do next? Believe it or not, things are going to slow down for you eventually."

He spins me around and I laugh. "I know what I want to do. In fact, I have a whole list of it."

"Oh really?"

"Yup."

"Are you nervous about mentoring?"

"Anyone would be, I think… Right?"

He nods. "Oh, definitely. You've been doing great so far, though, so I'm sure you'll have no problem with it."

"I hope not. Any advice from the expert?"

"I think you have to have a great tribute," he says, and I give a dazzling smile.

"Yeah, you did have great potential to work with." The teasing makes me feel light again, which I haven't felt in a while. I like when I'm with people, it helps me to get my mind off everything that was hurting me. He seems to notice, agree, and keeps up the little game, continuing to smile.

"It helps that I have the magic touch, which is something that can't be learned."

"Sure, but maybe it can rub off on me. After all, I've proven my greatness so far."

He laughs. "Maybe. I guess we'll see."

The song ends and I can't help but feel a bit bummed. I was starting to have fun. Luckily for me, there are plenty of people ready to dance with me, and I spend the rest of the night enjoying being alive and living it up. I'm almost sad when it's over, but then I remember that I get to go home.

.

The next morning, I don't feel nearly as excited. After all, my home is also Alma's home. And that's the speech I've been looking forward to the least.

I've been done in a normal outfit, a nice pink shirt and black dress pants, and don't get any time to look out the window before we're there.

"Ready to be home?" Platinum asks, a gentle look in his eyes.

I swallow nervously. "As ready as I'm going to be."

The mayor spends a long time getting the District ready. The excitement is rising, slowly rising. My heart is pounding out of my chest as I stand backstage. The mayor looks backstage and turns back to the crowd.

"What? Oh my, it looks like Miss Chandler's train was delayed!" The crowd seems to sink, and the mayor lets out a chortle. "Just kidding. District One, your Victor of the 42nd Hunger Games, give it up for Whimsy Chandler!"

I step out on the stage, looking out at my home. The same stage on which I strutted up to volunteer. The same stage I looked out at the crowd on, wondering what was going to happen, confident I would win. The same stage I jumped off to greet my family upon getting home. The same stage I'm going to sit on every reaping morning for as long as I may live. I put up my arm and the crowd roars with applause.

"Thank you District One! I'm so glad to be home!"

I wait for the applause to die out before I begin my speech, out of respect for Alma, after all, as excited as I am to be home, as proud as I am to be back in District One, his family is still mourning. On his side, just two parents. His mother looks like she's trying her best not to cry. His father is stone-faced. I make my speech on his behalf, reading straight from the cards as my eyes fill with tears.

"Alma was special. He was important. He made the experience… So much more amazing. I would give almost anything for him to be here with me. He was so bright, and optimistic, and cheerful, and he always made me smile. I'm so honored to get to know him and will forever hold him in my heart. In the end, I won for him. I won for my District, and I won for Alma." Tears start to roll down my cheeks, but I let them. "I hope to someday be half as funny as he is. He made me laugh so much when we were on our way to the Games. Most of all, though, I hope that all of you are proud of him. He fought honorably and did everything he could to bring honor to his home. I know I'm proud of him. He was the best tribute you could have chosen, and you should be so proud of him for how he carried himself and how he fought. I am so honored and grateful to be standing here in front of you today, and I hope you will all be proud of me as your Victor." I smile as I step back, receiving flowers and a big hug from a radiantly pretty girl with dirty blond hair and high five a boy with blond hair.

"Now, let's party!" I say, pumping up my fist, and the crowd cheers as the buffet is opened and I run off to meet up with my friends and family.

I'm going to live life to the fullest.

I'm going to be the best person I can be, I'm going to make them all proud.

And, in the meantime, I don't think the other tributes would mind terribly if I danced and laughed a little bit.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Phew, a long one. And I bet next chapter is going to be longer, because we're going back to the Districts next chapter to check up on the families and friends of the deceased. I can't believe that there are only two chapters of this story left! :O**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Which Districts are you looking forward to most to hearing from?**_


	33. District Epilogues

District 1

 _Cheshire Panella, friend of Alma_

None of what happened was Whimsy's fault. I know that, somewhere in my chest I always knew it. It didn't take too long for me to forgive her. Sure, talking to her hurt. Seeing her face reminded me of the friend that I'd lost. But ultimately, it was good for me. There was someone that understood my pain. Regal was always good, but he recovered quicker than either of us. Whimsy understood, though. Sure, she didn't grow up with him like I did. She didn't always have his back, she didn't see him overcome his insecurities… She didn't see him at his worst, and at his best. But she understood how much it hurt to lose him. After all, she won for him.

I didn't know Whimsy much before she left, but even I could see that she wasn't the same upon coming back. She seemed to take things more seriously now, left the party girl life behind. Well, somewhat.

It was because I learned her story that I didn't volunteer. When he died, all I wanted to do was avenge him. I was training harder than ever. Amaze dropped out and it looked like the path to the spot was mine. It was through tea with Whimsy that I realized how broken she was. Nobody is prepared for the Games. As much as I wanted to volunteer, I knew that it wouldn't be worth it. I dropped out.

Now, though, I'm happy. I work as a Trainer in the Academy, next to the new Head Trainer Cordovan Prior. I like preparing other people for volunteering, it's pretty satisfying. It's sad when a lot of them don't come back from the Games, but I'm glad that I didn't suffer the same fate. I live one day at a time. The more time goes on, the easier it is to smile. I still miss him so much, my best friend, the one I trusted more than anyone… But it's not all bad.

"Shire?" a voice asks, muffled by the door. He sounds nervous. I feel nervous, from where I'm pacing around the bathroom.

"You can come in if you want."

The door opens and Glow enters slowly. "Anything?"

"Don't you think I would tell you if there was something?"

"Right. Sorry."

"It's fine. It's probably just because I've been more athletic lately."

"Right." He takes a deep breath, trying to hide the nervous energy that's practically radiating from him.

"So no worries. It's just a precaution." I move closer, kissing his cheek and doing my best not to touch him with the pee-covered stick.

"Just a precaution."

Before long, the test lit up. I have to look at it twice. The second time, I realize what it means and drop the test.

"What's wrong?" Glow looks worried.

I blink in shock. "It… It's positive."

He looks just as shocked as I feel. "Oh."

Emotions swirl around in my chest and I have absolutely no idea how I'm feeling. I can't put this together…

"So…"

"Yeah." Maybe I should feel more afraid. But I don't. Not when he's here with me. I'm not alone. I know that I'm not alone.

"Wow."

"Yeah." He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. I bury my head in his chest, feeling him breathe. I'm not alone. I may only be twenty-one, him twenty-two, but I'm not alone. When Alma died, I thought I was alone, but I'm not. And for that, I will always be grateful.

"We're going to be okay," he whispered, tucking some of my hair behind my ear. "I promise."

"We'll be okay," I repeat quietly, a smile spreading across my face. "Together."

District 2

 _Nikolai Franke, friend of Bellona_

I hate living alone.

I moved out of the orphanage after I turned eighteen. Mrs. and Mrs. were really nice about helping me get an apartment on my own to start being more independent. It's a tiny apartment that I can barely afford to keep up. All I can do is work at the steel mill and try to get by. Living in this place is just so lonely. It's dim and old, cramped. But it's something.

I do get visitors every so often. I enjoy it when they come over. I hate being alone, it just keeps on reminding me how lonely I am.

Every night, I have nightmares about the Games. Even though I'm officially too old to go into them now. I constantly relive Fabian's death in my dreams, and now Bellona's has been added to the nightmare. She did everything right. There was no reason she shouldn't have won. Just because that coward from District Five cheated, she's dead. Just like the cruel way Luther killed Fabian. He was bleeding and begging for death. Stupid outer-District cowards.

There was no reason Bellona shouldn't have won. She was the strongest tribute _there_. She fought so hard, she did everything right. She didn't make friends. She didn't talk to them. She had no fatal flaws. She was just taken out because another tribute couldn't take her in a fight.

Since she died, I've been visited by a lot of people. Corona, her cousin, visits me once a week and brings ingredients to make a meal with. She's been teaching me a lot about cooking, which I appreciate. Now I can at least make food that isn't totally disgustingly bland every once in a while. She's really nice and checks in on me a lot. I've never had someone care for me like that before.

Sometimes, Mars comes over. He's really close friends with Blaze, now the oldest orphan at fourteen. She's strong, though, stronger than me. She never woke up screaming and crying from nightmares. She was never weak like I was. While she slept soundly, I had visions of darkness falling over me, helpless darkness, and being stabbed straight in the back. While she slept soundly, I had nightmares of being chopped by an axe, limb by limb, Luther invading the orphanage and torturing the kids… I was a wreck. In a way, I still am.

I haven't seen nor heard of any of Ezie's family or friends. It's as if they just disappeared.

Sometimes Blaze visits with Mars, Bellona's little brother. They're usually teeming with stories about ways they caused trouble at the Academy. It's fun to listen to them talk about those things. Haunted houses, practical jokes, gift exchanges at Winter Fest time. Innocent things. Luckily, neither of them ever want to go into the Games. I don't think I could stand it if they did.

Healing is a long process. A rough process. Just when I thought I was getting it under control, Bellona went into the Games. Now she's dead too. It's only by the good grace of Corona, Blaze, and Mars that I'm still around. They still check up on me to make sure I'm alright. I'm doing okay, I guess.

Nightmares may torment me still. Nightmares of blood and violence, of the orphans being hurt, of myself trying to fight and failing. I may still have a fear of the dark. I have night lights in every room, just in case I sleepwalk and into a room in the dark. I just have to keep on healing. It's a process that takes a long time, as I'm quickly learning.

I just have to wake up every morning and keep going. Pay off my debt and pick myself up.

It's what they would want.

District 3

 _Leaf Maciver, friend of Winchester_

I never thought I would celebrate my seventeenth birthday without him.

He was alive, that day. It was the first day of the Games. It was a horrible time to have a birthday. I hate my birthday. Every year, a bloodbath happens on my birthday. And this year, it included my best friend. The only person to ever give this no-good orphan a second look.

He may have looked intimidating, but he was everything. He was funny. He liked to tease me, but it was always just a joke, for fun. He was actually so sensitive and compassionate. He was gentle and observant. He was sensitive, even though he was quiet. A lot of people were intimidated by him, but getting to know him was such an honor.

My seventeenth birthday was spent in fear of my best friend dying. I barely slept that night, I was constantly watching the Games. I just missed him so much. I was just so lonely without him.

He died the next day.

I could imagine his voice, "How does it feel being seventeen, old lady?"

"You should know, you old geezer!" I would quip back, and they would both laugh.

God, that memory hurts. I miss him so much. He was so much to me. He was my joy, he was my family. The only family I had. Now I'm just left alone in this dirty, starving orphanage, to face another reaping without him.

Sondra's parents were devastated at the funeral. Her friends were absolutely miserable, they missed her so much. They were angry, angry at Beo more than anything, but generally just angry and upset. I honestly can't blame them. I hate the Careers, Whimsy Chandler, for taking him from me. She can run her mouth all she wants about how he inspired her, but those were just words. How could she have any idea how loved he was here? I know that it may be irrational, she was probably being genuine, trying her best to say something to comfort us. I know he was great, there was so much about him that I can only wish I could have someday. But I can't help feeling mad.

Maybe I always knew he would die. Somewhere deep in me. He was sarcastic, and shy, he was sensitive and he was so gentle. How was he supposed to fight them? He may have looked intimidating, but I always knew that he wouldn't have hurt a fly. There was absolutely no way he could have won, I knew it from the second we said our last goodbye, but I couldn't help hoping against hope that he would come home.

I hate the Games. They're terrifying. I live in fear of the reapings. I still have two left to go. Two years in which I could be picked to die. I took more tesserae than Winchester ever did, after all. I'm an orphan, after all, I take tesserae for everyone who couldn't take them for themselves. I'm at a higher risk. I couldn't win the Games.

Until the reaping, though, I just have to continue to stay strong. I have to make the most of what I have and strive to be more like him. I treasure the relationships I have so much more than ever, and I'll still visit his grave. I'm not entirely convinced that he's gone, of course. I still feel him in moments of joy. I see him in the stars, in the sun, in the moon.

I see him in the few flowers that manage to grow through the cracks of this horrible District.

I'll be okay, I know it. And Winchester will always be with me.

District 4

 _Brennan Sivan, friend of Branden_

The nights with sweet dreams are always the worst. Those are the nights that make me miss him the most. Those are the dreams that hurt the most. At least when I see him dying I wake up and calm myself down. When I see us together, when I dream of his smile and the brightness of his eyes, I wake up smiling before I fall into the black depths of depression. I miss him so much every day.

After a night of dreaming about working beside him, the taste of his kisses, the feeling of his arms around me, I can't help but miss him painfully. I have to get out of this house… The house where our relationship was ended. The house I hate.

I quickly throw on my work clothes. I have to get out of here. I go down the steps to the kitchen, where my father is eating breakfast.

"Brennan," he said. I could feel the ice in his eyes. He was still mad at me for going to the funeral. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To the beach," I answer quickly.

"It's Saturday. Why would you be going to the beach? You don't have work."

"I just… Want to go there."

"Boy, you'd better not be meeting another faggot," he growled. I silently bite my lip. If only he knew. If only my goddamn father knew that there would never be another. There would never be another as perfect for me as Branden was. He was everything. He made me laugh, he made me feel safe and happy, he made me smile and laugh more than anyone else ever could. Branden was mine, and I was his. He was my best friend and he was my rock. He was always there for me. He was charming and endearing and always knew what to do for me. He just wanted the best for me. He deserved the world. He deserved the world and he ended up here. He's dead and it's all my fault. He's dead and he died fighting for me. There would never ever be another.

My father will never understand. He will never understand what it's like to love someone so deeply.

"I'm not."

"No child of mine will be a faggot," he says. If only he knew how much that word hurt. If only he cared.

With misty eyes, I just nod and hurry out of the house, ignoring my father yelling at me as I went. I keep on going until my bare feet hit the sand. The second I feel the cool sand between my toes, a tear is rolling down my cheek. He just can't control it anymore.

Branden going into the Games was all my fault, I just know it. If I were just able to defy my father, leave my house, do _something_ so we could be together… Instead of egging Branden on to go into the Games to win a better life. I should have taken the initiative myself, I shouldn't have ever forced Branden to do it for me. Branden died in those Games and it's all my fault. I was the one who agreed that trying to woo his District partner would be a good strategy.

I was the one that Branden fought for. And I was the one that Branden died for.

I never wanted him to die for me. I wanted the world for him. I was so sure that he was going to win, he was always so competitive. I thought there was no way he wouldn't win. I wish I had done something to keep him from going. Maybe I should have fought, gone into the Games myself, so even if I died at least he was still alive, at least he would have been with his friends and family. I have no one. Branden was my everything, and just like that, because of that bastard from Two, he's gone.

I can't help the tears that roll down my cheeks.

 _I love you so much Branden_ , I want to shout, _I will never love anyone else._

 _I'm sorry, my love._

 _I'm sorry I wasn't brave and strong like you._

 _I'm so, so, sorry._

District 5

 _Kyria Nawrocki, sister of Torque_

I was six when they died.

I honestly don't remember much about that day, in all honesty. I remember waking up to the sound of my mother's voice in Fiona's room, but I couldn't hear what she was saying. I remember Fiona's sobs. I remember looking for my father, who was leaving to see Ree in the hospital, tell her maybe, comfort her. I really don't know. It was a lot of confusion. I really didn't know what was happening.

My parents sat me down for the talk about what was happening a couple days after. I remember being confused because I didn't think adults could cry at the time, because I had never seen it before. Soon, they stopped trying to hide their tears from me. I was thrust into the real world. We were starving. Ree was getting treatment, but she was still at risk of dying any moment. Fiona had to take control at such a young age. We never lost contact with Bev, though. Jost kind of drifted away, but Bev stayed. She and Fiona were pretty close.

Now I'm all grown up. Well, if you'd consider sixteen to be all grown up, I suppose. Ten years later. Ree's out of the hospital, her hair's all grown back, and she's dating a really nice boy. Fiona moved out a couple years ago. She's still living by herself, but she's trying to live her life as best as she can.

I'm still at risk of being reaped, of course. But, I'm still working hard. The outpour of love from some kind donors in the Capitol for Ree's sake could go towards feeding the family, which gave me the opportunity to stay in school. I like school, and I'm glad that I can keep learning.

Today, though, is our discussion about the Forty-Second Games. I've been alright all the other years learning about it, because we never had to watch. It was too graphic, they said. But, it's an important year for a District that barely has anyone make the final eight.

Everyone stares at me as we watch the Games. I can feel their eyes digging into me very uncomfortably. They all know that Torque is my sibling. They think I know what's going to happen, but the truth is that I don't. I haven't watched it yet.

The Games are just as brutal as I pictured. I had no idea how graphic they meant. Torque and their District partner were friends, it was cute. Then, things went to shit. I watched my sibling, the person I idolized, kill a teenager by bashing his head in with a rock. I watched them send their District partner falling down the pit without a touch of remorse. After smearing her blood on their face.

I couldn't help my shock. _This_ was the person I loved so dearly? The person I defended?! _This_ was the person Fiona and Ree had such fond memories of?! _This_ was the person they said was a hero!?

How could they possibly excuse Torque's actions?! I had never seen any of this. I watch them fight Bellona, put out the torches of the room and stab her. I watch every horrible moment, until the very end. I watch them turn their sword on themself. Why would they do this!? They were so close and they just gave up their chance like that?! My eyes pool up with tears and I run out of the classroom quickly.

I don't know where I'm going, but I know that I don't want to stop. I can't help but feel lied to, and angry. How could they do that!? After everything they went through, taking the coward's way out in the last moment! How could Ree and Fiona say they were proud of them? I sob into my hands. I can't believe I spent so long being proud of them. I sob into my hands. I feel like I've lost my oldest sibling all over again.

I wish I had never watched the Games.

I wish I'd never had to see what they became.

District 6

 _Tulio Garza, brother of Isa_

What do you say to someone who just lost their fifteen-year-old sister? If I were in the visitors' shoes, I wouldn't know. I wish I were in our visitors' shoes. On the outside looking in, not understanding the pain of missing someone so dear to you. Feeling bad, but not devastated.

Instead I'm on the other side. I'm the one dressed in black. I'm the one with my parents and brothers, receiving gifts and visitors. The youngest, the baby. Isa. Even though there's a three year age difference between us, we were so close. She was so bright and such a leader. Her courage is astounding to me. I could never equal it.

All of Mom's students come together to console her. My friends are there almost as soon as the doors open. Each of them has a story about Isa, about a time she tried to flirt with them, or a time she was boasting about something that only a fifteen-year-old would care about. They loved her. She always made us laugh. Sure, she was never trying to, but she did anyways. We always said that she would understand when she was eighteen. But that day will never come.

She was the leader, of course. She was brave and daring, just as she always was. I could tell that in that week, the other girls in her alliance became her very good friends. Especially that Lindsay. Something about the way that they looked at each other radiated so much friendship and love.

Ramon and his boyfriend actually did come. Even though Ramon was always convinced that Isa was the favorite, he cares about his family. I know he does. Even though he moved out, he still tries to check in on us.

Enzo has dark circles under his eyes. He was out late last night. He was out late, as always, doing his late-night job. It's amazing that our parents haven't figured it out yet. Isa was probably closer to knowing the truth than they ever were. Our parents have to know that no real District Six job would pay so much. They have to have some clue that he's working some shady job to be earning so much. If he were actually having sex as a prostitute, I probably would have told them much earlier. Since he's not, since he's just arranging appointments and working as a pimp, I'm letting it slide. For now. I really don't like him putting himself in so much danger, but that's his nature. Reckless and daring, determined to get what he wants however he can. He's determined, I'll give him that. However, that also means that there are basically no visitors that come just for him. I feel bad about that, but I figure that he'd probably prefer it that way.

I don't talk to Wyatt's family at all, none of us do. They just look very worn-down. Elise cries the entire time, from beginning to end. I don't blame her. Stanton, her brother, holds onto his mother's arm the entire time.

It's a sad day, but sunny and the night is clear. I can actually see a couple stars among the smog.

I miss Isa so much. It's going to be a long road to healing, that's for sure. But at least I can have peace from the fact that she died fighting. She died with her allies.

And somewhere up in the stars, I bet that she's dancing with Lindsay.

District 7

 _Nash Arbor, step-cousin of Tomer_

He was my best friend.

He was my best friend, and nobody's going to remember who the hell he even was. He was my best friend and now he's nothing, nothing but a corpse, nothing but a faded tombstone, nothing but a ridiculous piece of Games trivia to the sick people that actually _enjoy_ them. The people that don't have to fight in them.

He was my best friend, and he was the first to die. Nobody ever remembers the first to die. Nobody except for the friends and family that love them and miss them more than anything.

Yeah, maybe I have other friends. But those friends aren't and never will be him. He was family. Aunt Cedara and Uncle Grover have had their shutters closed since he died. My parents made meals for them, them and Dara. It was nice to sit with Dara for a while. She understood how he felt more than any of my other friends. After all, she was suffering, too. She missed him too. She knew that he would be forgotten too. She had been coping through art, just like he would have. She was a good artist. She was a spectacular wood carver. At first we always joked about letting the fiery girl hold a knife, but they found that she had a special affinity for sculpting. Too bad it would never be discovered more than her friends challenging her to carve more and more complicated things. She would never get money for her work, and it would never be admired by nearly enough people.

His paintings are still hanging on the walls. I can remember each one being revealed and treasured by his family. Some of the earlier ones are more simple, and they get better and better. The outdoor scenes got more and more realistic. He really had so much potential. The way he made colors dancing on the canvas. He had that eye, that talent that couldn't be replicated. It was just natural to him. It was really a gift.

I trace my pointer finger gently over one of the canvases, an outdoor scene in the woods at night. I was there when Tomer was painting this one. It was last year. Required watching for the Games had just ended, and Tomer needed something to get his mind off of the horrors he'd seen. Sure, the tribute from our District won last year, but it was still hard to watch. To cheer up and get that peace, he decided to go out and paint in the summer weather in the woods, and I agreed to go with him. I held up the lantern when Tomer requested, needed to see something. It was fun, being out there and watching him work like that. It was very calming indeed. I will never forget being out there, seeing the stars and watching the fireflies.

And now he's gone. Just like that. He was just trying to go into the Cornucopia for supplies and he was the first casualty, the first of six that day. It was just so painful. It's horrible, seeing someone you care so much about just… Die. Collapse in a puddle of blood. Especially someone so young. He was shy, so the whole nation will forever overlook him. They're all going to forget him, all of them. Even Whimsy, she'll probably just forget he ever existed. Why would she want to remember? Why would she care?

"I think this is done."

I look up when Dara speaks. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She hands it to me and I examine the carved piece of wood.

"It's a bear."

"It's good."

When I glance at Dara I notice her eyes pooled up with tears, one escaping and leaving a trail as it falls down her cheek. I drop the sculpture and hug my step-cousin tightly.

She sniffles. Her voice quivers as she forced out, "Those were always his favorite."

District 8

 _Bronx Stringer, ex-boyfriend of Trekker_

He died broken.

He died because of me. Because I wasn't good enough at mentoring for another bitching year in a row. I tried everything and it still wasn't enough. I hadn't slept in days, I was living on coffee to keep me awake, and my withdrawal symptoms were flaring up like a fuck. Those shitting drugs ruined my shitting fuck life. I did what I had to, but maybe it wasn't even worth it.

The list of people I've gotten killed is one longer now. I can't believe this all happened because of me. I will never be able to stop thinking about him. Because, as much as I don't want to admit it, he broke my heart too. I mean, it wasn't really his fault, but… He did. When he left, he took a piece of me with him.

The worst part was that we were friends. That was the part that hurt the most. We jumped into the whole relationship thing promising that it wouldn't ruin our friendship. But it did. In the end, we still lost our friendship. And that is something I will never stop being sorry for. I could have dealt with us deciding that the relationship just wasn't working. I could have gotten over it. But I lost his friendship too. He was the only real friend I had and just like that he was gone, gone just like the rest of them. I had one hope that maybe, just maybe, I could get him back, and he refused. He broke my heart too. Even if I pretend sometimes that I don't have one.

It's easy to pretend you don't have a heart when you've caused so much death. It's easy to pretend you're nothing but a heartless, hollow spirit when you're responsible for so many broken lives. I should have died in the Games. I really should have. There was so much stacked against me. I was reaped to die, after all, it's just dumb luck that I didn't. Twenty-three bitching tributes died in my place. I shouldn't be here, and I know that. Trust me, I'm plenty aware of that. I'm just a criminal addict that let three worthy tributes, three lives that had so much potential, just slip through his shit fingers.

Last year, I lost both of my tributes. Both of them meant a damn lot to me. I know, it didn't seem that way, especially when we interacted before. We were competitors. She and her friend Ryann were dealers like me. I guess I just felt like it was my fault when she got shot. And then, Liana and Nolan were both sent off to die, and now I've lost Trekker too. My whole world has basically been destroyed.

Why the hell did I even win the Games? Before them, I was trying to kill myself. I would have shot my brains out if I hadn't run into the girls. The only reason I didn't was because I didn't want them to watch it happen. I thought I was going to be caught by Peacekeepers that day. I should have just gone through with it. Maybe then none of this would have happened. Maybe then nobody would have died because of me. Maybe if I had just died early when I was supposed to, Ryann wouldn't have been killed, and Liana and Nolan wouldn't have been targeted, and Trekker would have had a mentor that actually knew what to do for him, a mentor that he liked and could work together with, instead of the scum off the bottom of his shoe.

It hurts when the nicest person you ever knew is nice to everyone but you. It hurts when the person that softened your heart won't even look at you, or talk to you, or try to make up with you. He really broke my heart. There's no use in pretending he didn't anymore. I know he blames me for everything, he always did and I had a feeling he wasn't going to budge. That hurts too. I'm not saying I was blameless, of course not, I'm the dirt of the earth, the shadows and darkness, but I really was just trying to protect him. He just didn't understand. It just didn't work. But losing my best friend was harder than anything I ever had to do. Knowing that he still lived close, that I could still run into him somewhere, somehow, and he wouldn't even acknowledge me. Being strangers with him, and knowing that he's sure it was all my fault. Maybe it was. I don't know. I wish I knew how to handle the situation better. We were just teens. I had never done anything like this before. I messed it up. I hurt him. I lost him.

And now he's dead. Dead just days after his nineteenth birthday. I can't help thinking this is all my fault. Because I lived, I'm going to watch everyone I love die. Because Solitaire didn't kill me when she had the chance, I have to suffer forever, and everyone I ever gave a fuck about is going to suffer in my place. I don't know how much more I can take. Then again, I have absolutely nothing left. Or did I?

There was one reason I decided to try to live. No, it wasn't my mentor, insisting that I had a chance. Instead it was a woman who lived on the corner of South Street and made the best goddamn cookies I had ever tasted. We weren't related at all, she and I, but she was everything to me. She was my mentor, my role model growing up. She was the one I went to when I was lonely, or needed romantic advice, the first person I came out to. Basically the mother I never had. She lost her son, my half-brother, to the Games, and from there she just kind of started to raise me like I was her kid. I won so that she wouldn't have to see both of her sons be taken away from her by the Capitol.

I offered her a place in my house in the Victor's Village, but she declined. I still visit often, though. When I do I try to bring something nice. She hates it when I bring expensive stuff, so it's usually a simple couple flowers or something. It was sitting at this table that I broke down for the first time after Trekker died. Where I ate dinner after his funeral. And now where I was about to ask a very serious question.

"Mum… I know this girl. She was friends with Liana when she was still alive… She's younger than me, like, five, six years younger…"

She raises an eyebrow at me, still not sure where this was going to go. Knowing me, being trouble, it could probably go any number of ways.

"Her name's Nina. She's not like me. She's a nice girl. But she's really, really poor."

"So am I, Sweetie," she said, but it wasn't meant to be bitter. She was a hard worker and didn't like to accept gifts.

"I've just been thinking a lot about it lately and…"

"And?" She's definitely not ready for the question I'm about to ask, I just know it.

I take a deep breath, and get it off my chest.

"I think I want to marry her."

District 9

 _Daisy Perez, friend of Linnea_

Since Linnea died, nothing has been the same. It's so hard to keep going, I have no idea how I've gotten myself up out of bed every morning. I miss her, I painfully miss her every time I think about her. She was my best friend. She was everything to me. I never in my life thought that I would have to attend her funeral at age fourteen. She was so young. There was so much left for us to do, but she was taken from us.

When I wake up in the morning, my cheeks are stained with tears from nightmares that I can't remember. Just as usual. Probably about being reaped. About the Games. About being the District partner to someone so terrible. Someone who lost his mind. Someone who painted his face in blood and lived in the night.

I always hated watching the Games, even when I didn't know anyone in them. I hated seeing the bloodshed, the pain, the horrors of the Games. But this year it became horribly real. Now I understand the fear, terror, the horrible anticipation. I watched Linnea at her best, smiling at the crowds during chariots, seeming to come out of her shell a little bit, giving a good interview. I watched her talk about her life, live through her best moments. Then I had to watch her die. Cut away so simply at the bloodbath, like she never even mattered, like she had absolutely no people that loved her back home. They had absolutely no idea. Nobody would ever have any idea how much she would be missed.

There are so many things I wish I had said to her when I still had the chance. I wish I had told her more how appreciated she was. If only she had any idea how much I missed her. If only she had a single clue.

They kept talking about her not really being gone. They said that she would still be here, she's still with us. She isn't truly gone. That's what everyone kept saying. But it's not the same! It's not the same, having her here with us and having her dead! No matter what, it will never be the same! I will never be able to make new memories with her, I'll never be able to see her and spend the day with her. It's not the same and it never will be. Not when every memory I have with her is followed by the memory of her lying dead in a pool of blood.

I bite my lip, wipe my eyes and sit up.

"Daisy!" I hear my mother's voice call. "Marigold is here!"

I sit up and sigh. "She can come up!" I call back, blowing my nose.

I hear a gentle knock and soon, Marigold appears in the doorway. "Hey Dais," she says quietly.

"Hi," I say back.

"How are you doing?"

"Alright." I start to get dressed. This is a pretty common thing now, Marigold coming to check on me in the mornings and waiting for me to get ready for the day.

"Another rough night?"

"It's just becoming the norm by now."

She sighs sadly. "Yeah. Same."

Marigold watches as I comb my hair and puts her shoes on.

"We should probably look for Flora…" Marigold says quietly.

"Yeah…" I say quietly, biting my lip. We always used to ask her for help with schoolwork when Linnea was alive. When she died, both of us took time off of school, and even when I went, I just couldn't make myself focus. Especially because of the very deliberately-chosen next unit in literature.

Marigold and I glance at the book I just haven't been able to open.

"Ready to go?" she asks, a sad tone overpowering her voice.

"No."

I pick up Lord of the Flies and together, we go to the small lounge in which Flora usually spent her Saturday afternoons.

District 10

 _Court McCoy, sister of Hartwin_

I always wanted to drop out to help the family. My parents and brother thought they were doing a good thing by keeping me in school, but the truth is that I just wasn't good at it. Mia's a great school student, she's talkative and intelligent, not afraid to answer questions and not held back by absolutely anything. She actually has the potential to be a great school student. She has the potential to get a job that doesn't depend on manual labor. I never had that potential, so I have no idea why my family kept me in school. I mean, I know that the opportunity to attend school is practically unheard of to most District Ten, but… It just isn't cut out for me.

Now, I'm working in the ranch with my parents full-time. They felt horrible that they had to pull me out of school, talking about hiring another field hand, but it just couldn't happen. Everyone was grieving, it was just a bad time and nobody wanted a new face around. Mona Lee is focused on school and aiming for a good job, but I was available. I want to work as long as I can to keep Mia in school, as unlike me, she's actually successful there.

I miss Hartwin every day. Even after he's put in the ground, the mood has barely improved. All of us still miss him to pieces. My Mom keeps trying to get me and my Dad to talk to her about the grief we're feeling, she thinks that if we do she can coach us through it. She and Mia are really open with each other about it, of course, and their relationships gotten stronger over it. But I think my Dad and I have gotten closer. Neither of us are the type to talk about all the nitty gritty details of our emotions, but that helps us understand each other.

We've spent a lot of time together lately, as he's taught me how to do the work I'll need to do around the ranch. By occupying ourselves with tasks and labor, it lessens the pain, or at least, muffles it. We've been coping together, and it's helped both of us.

We kind of got back into this routine. The family was there for each other. Mona is the type like me and my father, so sometimes she comes over and has dinner with us.

The one person I haven't seen mourn too much is Leary. He's been positive from the time Hart was reaped until the very end. I don't think that Leary doesn't miss him, I just… I don't know.

Today, I'm riding to town with him to buy supplies. We need some more rope and food for the pigs.

"Ready to go Court?" Leary says, and I nod. Together, we lead the horses in the direction of town. I've never done this before and I've never been with Leary for so much time.

"If you kept going this way, you'd see the town I grew up in," he says brightly. "It's great."

I just nod in agreement and let him go, enjoying the breeze and being on horseback.

"The bakery there is great! Best sugar cookies I ever had. And there used to be this pawn shop, the lady there was really nice, sometimes she gave me things for free."

I nod.

"I always…" his tone becomes heavy and sad. "I…" He stops. That makes me look up. It seemed to me that this boy never stopped talking. He stopped his horse. Confused, I pulled on the reigns, turning to look at him.

"I always said… I always thought… Maybe someday I'd take Hart there, and show him."

"Oh…"

"Sorry, I just…"

For the first time, Leary's happy façade shattered, and he burst out into tears.

District 11

 _Ash Wilder, mother of Elias_

I never imagined that I would know what it was like to lose my child so young.

Erik and I never imagined that when we gave birth to our baby boy, he wouldn't live to be an adult, he wouldn't live to see his sixteenth birthday. We never imagined that this could happen. Sure, we always knew that the reapings were in place, not budging, that he would someday have to go through them, but… There were so many other children out there. The thought that we would lose him was just a nightmare, a bad dream.

He was close, too. He was so close. He was intelligent, and the others underestimated him, just like I thought would happen. He had allies that were strong, and he kept them with his quick with and clever mind. He just couldn't fight like the Careers could. I knew it all along. I had to watch my baby enter that room, knowing that there were two Careers inside waiting to take his life. I couldn't do anything to stop him. I screamed at the television, I wanted to go shake it but Erik held me back. I couldn't stop the tears that night. I screamed and cried and didn't get a wink of sleep. When the sun rose, I had to get myself up and get back to work in the fields. My child, my only baby, he's gone.

We had just gone through this grieving process, just last year. Erik's sister lost her baby, her daughter Tierra. We had lost our niece. Seeing the hollow pain in their eyes was practically unbearable. I was in pain, but it was nothing compared to how her parents felt. She was their flesh and blood. That was the child they had made, raised from the time she was a baby. Just like that, she was… Gone. I was devastated, but I had no idea what it was like.

I was close with Krissa, too, but she barely remembered me. I babysat her and her siblings when she was a little kid. I was eighteen when she was six, so when their parents were out working, I stayed home with the kids. I always wanted to be a schoolteacher, so I loved watching the kids and helping them with their homework. I was devastated when she died, she was so brave and she died bravely. She volunteered for the Games to save her sister, and died fighting. I regretted drifting apart from Donavan and Maddie, but I couldn't infringe on their lives when they were mourning like that.

Now, though, I've lost my only child. Why does the Capitol hate my family?! Why do the Games insist on taking my family?!

It's been a couple weeks since it happened, and I've been trying to cope. It's just so terrible, terrible to have an empty house. It's so quiet and sad.

The silence is interrupted one evening by a knock on the door. Confused, I open it. On the other side is a young man with blond hair and a nervous look on his face. I can't help being surprised.

"Donavan." I smile. "What a lovely surprise."

"Hi there Ash. How are you doing?" I notice that he's holding a container in his hands.

"I'm good. What brings you here?"

"I wanted to have dinner. Are you free?"

"Oh. Yes, Erik and I don't have plans. Please, come in."

I smile a bit as Donavan enters and puts the pot on the table.

A warm dinner may be nice, but reconnecting with my family is far, far nicer.

District 12

Monterey Kaminiska had no friends, except for those that existed inside her head. However, what nobody knew, not even Monty herself, was that these people were based off of real people that lived their lives in District Twelve.

When Monterey would see someone interesting to her, she would subconsciously base a character off of them. Of course, these people had absolutely no idea this was happening. They barely noticed the little tribute that went off the Games and die, before they kept living their lives just as they always had.

The first civilian used as Monterey's muse was a seventeen-year-old girl. She lived in the merchant sector of District Twelve. Her mother and father ran the District's biggest drugstore together. It was nothing compared to Capitolite standards, but it had simple healing supplies and such. She was a beautiful girl with blonde hair and bright blue eyes that never went out without looking her best. Her name was Esme.

Monterey noticed her one time as she was walking to her parents to the market. She was the first girl Monterey ever considered beautiful. Soon, the beautiful, rich blonde girl stayed in Monterey's thoughts.

The more Monterey was neglected by her poverty-stricken, hardworking parents, the more she got lost in her imagination. Soon, the beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl with beautiful red lips became Ali, the stunningly beautiful teenager that represented Monterey's lovelife and attraction to others. When Monterey noticed someone attractive, Ali would point them out. When Monterey had a crush, Ali would point out only their best qualities.

Esme, however, was much quieter and calmer. She wasn't nearly as flirtatious. She was, however, loyal and soft-hearted, and it broke her heart to see both tributes from District Twelve perish so early.

Another person that had been taken and used in Monterey's imagination was a sixteen-year-old girl. She had messy coppery red hair, freckles, brown eyes, and glasses. Monterey had seen her sitting on the steps of school, reading a book. Monterey didn't know, but Renee was waiting for her friend to get out of detention. However, Renee became a smart person, that always recounted the logical thing to do and facts that Monterey learned in books and at school. To Monterey, she was the incredible and intelligent Abcde.

Unlike Abcde, Renee was actually very tender and kind, and usually far too naïve. She was friends with people in low places, even if she probably shouldn't have been, and was also upset at the tributes dying so quickly and so young.

There was also an older lady that existed in District Twelve. Her name was Helen. Helen was a rare sight, because she was old with white hair and slightly plump for District Twelve standards. But what was most interesting about her was the eyepatch she wore. She worked in the Hob, and Monterey saw her once on her way home from work. However, the character she became was a sweet, motherly figure to fill the void of neglect left by her parents. Auntie Mabel gave Monterey advice and acted as a mother to her, to cope for the absence of Monterey's own mother.

However, unlike Auntie Mabel, Helen was the opposite of kind. She was usually angry and very harsh, and hated children. She hated the Games, but was used to watching them by now and was desensitized to the death on television.

Another character in Monterey's thoughts was inspired by a boy her age. Maxton, a boy with dark hair and gray eyes, was cruel to Monterey. He hated her and often laughed at her and called her names. He yelled at her a lot and was usually very violent to her. Out of fear and spite, this boy became the worst of them all, Zack, AKA, The Savage. Monterey was terrified of him, and hated him because he was so mean. He was mean and targeted everyone, saying that her friends weren't real and she was a freak.

The most important person in Monterey's life, though, was her best friend. Sure, she couldn't remember if her name was Saul or Paul, but he was her staple. She did things for him because he was blind, and represented a companion Monterey desperately wanted. She wanted to have a purpose, so she made one for herself. Her purpose was to help Saul.

The man that she had used as inspiration was named Duncan. He was a young man, young and in his prime, but he walked with a white cane due to an accident in the mines in his youth. He was sunny and optimistic anyways, much like Saul. He took an interest in the little girl from District Twelve, as he'd recognized her as a little girl he'd seen walking places by herself. He was injured and couldn't work, so he often just sat on his porch and walked around town, watching the various characters that walked past.

Like Saul, Duncan cared about Monterey and wanted to know her story.

So he went on a quest to find it.

~.~.

 _ **A/N: Thank goodness that's over! Nothing against District epilogues, they just get so repetitive. I hope this isn't too long, I think it turned out a pretty good length for doing all 12 Districts.**_

 _ **Which means that one more chapter and this story is over! Ah, I can't believe it. But I'll save my rambles for next chapter. I hope you liked the closure in each District, even though not all 24 friends/family were mentioned. I'm pleased with how these turned out.**_

 _ **Also, submissions for my next partial Traveller are officially OPEN! If you want to see rules and the form, you can check my profile! The prologue for the story won't be up till this one is over, but if you want to reserve a character feel free! I hope you consider submitting! It's going to be fun and the feels train is pulling into the station for sure! I can't wait for it, and it's going to be amazing!**_

 _ **Chapter Question: Favorite epilogue and why? Any characters you'd want to see cameo in Traveller? Lame, I know, but oh well.**_


	34. Final Epilogue

-Whimsy's POV-

Victor's life is crazy, but… Not bad. I mean, not totally bad. Sure, there are bad days. I will certainly not doubt that. There are days I'd rather not do anything at all. There are still days when getting up is a challenge. And, of course, there are still days when I simply can't convince myself why my life is any more important than the ones that were lost. But, for the most part, it's been alright.

I get better and better each day. To say I'm _healing_ would probably not be the right word. I couldn't possibly _heal_ from what happened. Not from the grief of lost lives, and the guilt of knowing I'm the reason they're lost. No, healing isn't the right word. I guess the right word would be… Coping.

Since winning, I've barely sat still. I feel like spending time doing nothing is pointless. I can do nothing when I'm dead in the ground. But until that moment, I'm going to be constantly in motion. Whether it's cooking meals for my family, spending time with my siblings and friends, or being out and about, I always try to be doing something. I want to prove to them all- and myself- that I deserve life. And, though I know it's futile, I'm trying my very best.

I've been trying to get to know the other Victors, too. After all, we're all in this together, right? I've been doing my best.

It's rare that I ever spend time by myself, but today I figured I should branch off, even if just for a little bit. Since I'm already in the Capitol, I decided to visit the largest botanical garden in the country. It's absolutely beautiful. Bright, colorful flowers are in bloom everywhere I go. The sun is warm on my face, everything is sunny and nice.

I just lost my first tribute. She made it to the final ten, but was cut down by the hulking boy from Two, Brutus. After that, I was dismissed. I fulfilled all my requirements for visits, so now I have some free time in the Capitol while Prospero is mentoring the boy from One.

It's been a while since I've spent so much time alone, but I think that every once in a while, it's healthy. Especially when I'm in this mindset. Being around the beauty of nature, the flowers and their lovely smells, the warm sun and cloudless blue sky, reminds me why I'm living, what I was fighting for.

I was flocked by paparazzi, but I've now been given access to a remote little area, the prettiest, most colorful part, where I can exist without worrying about pictures being taken of me.

I take a seat on the bench and close my eyes, focusing on the breeze on my skin. I'm not in that horrible place anymore. I'm alive, I'm here, a fairy among the flowers.

The sound of footsteps approaching causes me to open my eyes in surprise. I get up and tiptoe around the corner, unsure who might be here with me. I'm on alert, and as soon as I see Yin Kozart, I tense up. He's there, with both of his babies. I don't know what to do, so I just stay back and watch. After all, this is the man that controlled the hellscape that was the Arena. He's the reason Ezie is dead. He's the reason twenty-three died. He and Solitaire. I ball my fists, but don't say anything. Not yet.

"I hope you never take interest in the Games," he whispers quietly, patting one of the babies on the head. "They're nothing but death."

Part of me softens. No, this is his fault… It has to be his fault.

When he speaks next, his tone contains a pain that I can recognize. "See this one? It always reminds me of your mother."

I can relate to his feeling. I watch as one of the babies reaches up to touch it, cooing softly. Yin turns his head slightly, and I can recognize the pain in his misty eyes. I understand how that is. To miss someone so much. But… If it's not Yin's fault, then whose is it?

"It was a mistake to get involved," he whispered. "It changed everything about me." There's a brief pause. "Well, it did change me in good ways. And gave me Solitaire, and both of you." I smile a little bit at that. "But… It caused so much pain. And death. On my hands, and hers…"

I feel my resolve melt. In this light, beyond the fame and press, I see him for who he really is: a man so devoted to his family that he will always fight for life. And, during the Games, he was nothing but a man who was really just trying not to die. Like Isa, Lindsay, Wyatt, Elias. He wanted to live, and did whatever it took to stay alive. Just like Tempest, Beo, Torque, Hartwin, _me_. Now I see him for who he really is.

He turns around and I hide, not wanting him to notice me watching him like a stalker. It's pointless, because I hear his footsteps come closer as he murmurs something about playing peekaboo to the twins. When he turns the corner he barely looks surprised.

"Good afternoon, Miss Chandler."

"You can call me Whimsy, Mr. Kozart."

"And you can call me Yin."

We exchange a look of understanding. He knows what I've been through, and he knew I was watching him this whole time. I understand his grief and pain, and forgive him for what we were put through. I'm starting to realize that maybe nobody's safe from being a pawn.

"It's a lovely day to be out in the gardens, isn't it?"

"Yeah, sure is."

One of the babies babbles happily and waves his arms at me. The other watches me silently, gurgling happily. Yin glances down before saying, "These are my boys. This one is Deck, and the other is Singe."

"Hi there," I can't help but coo at them. "It's so nice to meet you both!"

They seem to know that I'm talking to them now, because the one on the left, Deck, starts to wiggle happily.

"They're adorable," I tell Yin.

"Worth the world," Yin says quietly. "Worth fighting for."

I give a small smile and nod. There are no words I can use to express that I agree. He can just tell from the motion. After all, we're two broken people that understand each other, surrounded by the flowers, hugged by the warmth of summer.

"Have they ever been here before?"

"No, first time." He smiles a bit.

"Mine too," I say, poking Singe, the gurgler, on the nose and causing him to giggle. Deck takes my hand in his tiny ones and starts to examine my glossy pink fingernails.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I love it here. The breeze, the flowers. Takes me away from that horrible place." _That horrible place that you created,_ I think, but don't say it. I don't have to.

"It's horrible for me too. Not nearly as much for you, of course."

"I can see how," I say quietly.

The device in my pocket starts to beep suddenly, and when I pull it out there's a text message from Prospero on it, saying his tribute is dead and our train home leaves in an hour and a half. I sigh quietly.

"I should probably be going."

"Ah. Yes."

I nod at the young parent, alone and broken at the young age of twenty-seven before turning around to leave. Twenty-seven. He seems younger to me than that. Still, he's only eight years older than I am. Hm.

"And Whimsy?"

I turn around, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "Yeah?"

"If you ever wanted to… Babysit for me sometime… Let me know."

I give him a smile. "Sure. I'll call you."

"Okay, cool."

I'm still smiling as I exit the gardens, even dealing with the reporters and cameras on my way to the train station to be taken back home to District One.

~.~.

Six years later.

It's been six years since I emerged victorious. A crazy six years, that's for sure.

This morning, though, I wake up crying and gasping. I haven't had a nightmare about my Games in years, but last night was a particularly horrible one. My heart pounds and I just can't stop crying. I try to keep it down, not wanting to disturb anyone as it's still pretty early, and I don't want any of them to see me like this.

Getting out of bed is a challenge. Even after I'm over the initial panic, I still can't get out of this funk. I haven't been this depressed in months.

I'm so upset I don't even eat breakfast.

I just make myself get ready for the day and go right back to bed. I feel numb. My stomach rumbles uncomfortably, in pain from sheer sadness.

Soon, though, I sit up. I have an idea. After all, I have an arsenal of positivity ready and waiting for this moment. I crawl under my bed and pick up the lunchbox with my face on it. I take a deep breath before opening it up, and removing the pieces of paper from the inside, organized in District order. The tiniest smile spreads across my face as I start to read.

~.~.~.

 _Dear Future Whimsy,_

 _Past Whimsy here! How're you doing?! I hope you're doing alright. No, better than alright, I hope you're doing… AMAZING! FANTASTICAL! I don't know. Sometimes I just try to cope with obsessive cheeriness. You would know that. Right, because you're me._

 _Anyways, I bet you're wondering why I'm writing. Well, just kidding, you're not. Maybe you don't remember. I dunno. After winning and settling into the life, I decided to ask a lot of Victors how THEY cope with what happened to them. I got a lot of really interesting answers. From belief in the afterlife to alcohol, everyone had something different._

 _Luther confessed that he wrote a letter to his future self. He said it was currently buried under stacks of other papers and books in a chest in his cellar, waiting to be opened ten years after it was written. Platinum showed me his lunchbox full of artifacts. So, I decided to combine those two ideas, but not without a Whimsy Chandler twist of course!_

 _So, here's what I did. I made a bucket list in honor of the tributes that died. And the first item on the list is for me. Platinum has a little mushroom tin in his box to represent who he used to be before the Games, so this is in honor of younger Whimsy. So here's the first item of Whimsy Chandler's Fantastically Awesome Bucket List of Awesomness!_

 _Every time something amazing happens to me, I'm going to write it down and put it in this lunchbox, so when I struggle to remember why I'm on this Earth, I can reread them and remember why._

 _Yeah, I got a lunchbox with my face on it. How crazy is that? Pretty nuts if you ask me. I never thought I would possibly reach this level of fame. I always thought I was just daydreaming. But now, it's all real. It's so real. Crazy, right?_

 _Anyways, now that I have the lunchbox, I'm going to start making my bucket list so I can fill it with amazing memories! What's life without a little flair? I'm going to prove to the world that not even the horrors of the Games can put out my spark. Even if I have to pretend sometimes._

 _In honor of the tributes, I will spend the rest of my life totally sober and clean. I'm not going to just waste my life away filling my own vain desires. No, now I'm going to challenge myself to honor the memories and make a difference in the world. And it all starts today! Man, this is so exciting!_

 _I hope you're doing well and totally living it up out there. Just remember, if you're hurting, you're not alone. You are the one that survived, so don't mess up your second chance. Do good things, you have so many opportunities to change the world, you just have to take them, girl! You just have to go out there and make it happen!_

 _So make it happen. It's what they would want you to do._

 _Love,_

 _Past Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Alma,_

 _This letter's for you, buddy. Today, I completed another task on my bucket list, and it was all in honor for you. Since it's complete, I decided to cut it off of the list so that I could tape it here for you to see it in all its pink gel pen glory._

 _Be a foster for homeless LGBT+ youth and do everything to make them safe and comfortable. Make them laugh and smile, a LOT._

 _I spent a while thinking of what I could do in your honor. I was back and forth between a couple different things (all of which I'm definitely going to do, make no mistake of that) before choosing this._

 _I know that you really didn't make a big deal of the fact that you're gay, but even so it was something that was important to you. After all, it was a part of who you were, a part of your beautiful, unique, self._

 _I wanted to do something involving smiles and laughter. My first thought was to start a stand-up comedy act, which I'm totally going to do someday, but I thought that wasn't enough. Sidenote: I should totally try to learn ventriloquism. That'd be dope._

 _Sorry, off-topic. Anyways, I knew that it had to be something involving bringing people happiness, because you brought me so much happiness. You were always making me laugh, you're just a naturally funny kind of guy. So I wanted to honor you by sharing some of that happiness you gave me with others._

 _Then, my ideas all came together and I decided what I wanted to do._

 _I currently have eight people in my house that I barely know. It was a HUGE decision: letting strangers in my house, when I'm barely twenty-one years old and often out of the house taking classes? It was a huge commitment. But one I wanted to take. I'm currently feeding, clothing, and housing eight people from the LGBT+ community that were kicked out of their houses. The youngest is eleven, a gay boy named Discovery. The oldest is a sixteen-year-old trigender kid named Proud._

 _I'm going to foster for and provide for them all until they're old enough to start their own legacy. Until then, I like to keep myself busy making them meals, keeping things tidy, and making sure everything is perfectly comfortable. It took changing a couple of sitting rooms into bedrooms and adding some bathrooms, but overall I think they're all thriving here, which is all I could have asked for. All of them are in training, but I've told all of them what it was like to volunteer. It's been totally fun learning their stories and I hope I continue to open my house to people that need it through the ages. They give me a sense of purpose, and every time I get them to smile, to open up to each other and spread their wings, feeling comfortable and safe and happy, I always think of you._

 _Another thing on my bucket list is starting some pride in District One. I just don't really know where to start it. Off-topic again, I know._

 _This has been such an amazing experience so far, and I know that I will always treasure it. I've learned so much and it's only been a couple months. I hope you smile down at us, Alma. I hope I made you proud and carried on your legacy of joy and laughter._

 _Your friend,_

 _Whimsy_

 _P.S. My friends somehow managed to set up Glow with Cheshire. It'll be SUPER interesting to see where this goes!_

~.~.~.~.

 _Dear Bellona,_

 _Today, I completed a task on my bucket list, just for you._

 _I was pretty nervous at first, but soon I realized that there was no reason to be afraid._

 _It was hard to come up with something to do in your honor. After all, you had already achieved so much. (And, if I'm being honest, I don't know enough of the real you to come up with anything that wasn't a total bore. No offense. Agh, that sounded mean. I don't know. I guess you were just always more mature than I was.)_

 _Anyways, after a while of contemplating, I decided what I would do in your honor._

 _Enter a cross country tournament and win!_

 _I chose track because you were always the most agile of all of us. I was terrified of you because you were so fast and you moved so well, after all. I almost chose gymnastics, but then I realized that I'm literally about as flexible as a popsicle stick and… YIKES! Gymnastics doesn't seem like something I could feasibly do. So I figured that running would be the next best thing._

 _I started training again, so I could stay in shape. I started running every day, always trying to improve my times. It took a lot of self-discipline and determination to get to this point, but I did it. My first tournament, I got fifth place. Turns out the Capitol has some great runners in it. (I wanted to compete in One or Two, but the only way I could get clearance was by doing it in the Capitol.)_

 _Anyways, I knew you wouldn't let that stop you, so I never gave up. I ran five races. I just got back from my sixth, where I have the gold! I was so happy. As I received the gold medal, I thought about you. You deserve it._

 _Even after winning, I'm not going to stop running! It's healthy and keeps me up on my feet. I hope I can be a grandma and still run with my grandkids. I know that's what you would have done, and I want to keep your legacy as strong as I can._

 _Rest well, my valiant… Acquain friend. Y'know what, we're friends. I officially declare it so._

 _Your friend,_

 _Whimsy_

~.~.~.~.

 _Dear Ezie,_

 _Today, I had the insurmountable honor of graduating from one of the Capitol's Universities with a degree in counselling. I'm officially qualified to be a counsellor and truly understand, empathize, and interact with people that have problems._

 _It was a long four and a half years of school, but worth it. Maybe that's a tremendous extent to go through for a bucket list item, but I felt a calling and immediately knew why._

 _Study to be a counsellor so I can provide emotional support at the Academy._

 _I always had a feeling that I wanted to pursue this in my life. But it wasn't until I was really thinking about it that I realized why. You were my rock after Alma died. You weren't a trained psychoanalyst, but just your presence and listening ear helped. You really did get me through the toughest time of my entire life. I will always be grateful for that._

 _So, I want to pass that gift you gave to me onto others. Besides, I figured that if I knew the science and logic behind the way humans process tragedy, it may help me process my own, somehow. Learning about it all was totally interesting. I feel like if you ever got to go to school, you'd be interested in learning things about how the brain works and such. Maybe it would have helped you get some sleep. Who knows?_

 _I decided I wanted to help hurting people, just like you helped me when I was hurting. You're largely one of the reasons I'm still alive today, and I'm not going to let that go to waste. Plus, I wanted to help Academy Students, because you trained at an Academy, and they alienated you. I don't want that to happen to anyone else, not ever. So, in your honor, I'm going to set up a mental health network at the Academy. I really hope you'd be proud of me, from wherever you may have ended up._

 _As I stood on that stage and received my diploma, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Thank you for inspiring me to reach for the stars, my friend. Hold Tempest close and treat her well._

 _Your friend,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Sondra,_

 _I had a pretty hard time coming up with something I could do for you. After all, you were very guarded before and during the Games. You were just so strategic, you knew what you had and you were ready to use it. I admire you for that, for sure._

 _What I decided to do for you was totally amazing though._

 _Climb a mountain!_

 _Yup, I saw you climbing in training. You were great at it, so I decided to get good at it too. I worked hard to become a good climber before going to District Two. There was a whole group of us, a couple of Victors and some trainers from District Two's Academy. We started with smaller mountains, working up to taller and taller ones. Soon, we were on our way up the second tallest mountain in the country._

 _It was a lot of hard work, but I didn't give up. I'm sure you could have done it, if you were there. You were so much better a climber than I am. But, eventually, we got to top of the mountain. It was just as the sun was starting to set._

 _If only you could have been there, Sondra. The view at the top of the mountain was absolutely beautiful. The night sky was as dark and beautiful as your hair. The stars were absolutely gorgeous. It was a view worthy of a queen. Like you._

 _It was the time of my life. I'm so thankful to have the experience. I will always remember this day, and the girl who inspired it._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Winchester,_

 _Today I just got back from completing the item on my bucket list that I had just for you._

 _I didn't know you very well, and you really didn't let anyone into who you were during your time in the Games. I admire that, it was very brave of you. You had a better brave face than anyone I knew._

 _It took some exploring to really figure out what to do for you. I wanted it to be something you would like, and be proud of me for. So I decided to go to someone who may have known at least a piece of the real you: your mentor._

 _He didn't tell me much, but he mentioned that he had some conversations with you about the supernatural. From there, I knew what I should do for you._

 _Spend an evening with Gio, taking him and his stories seriously._

 _Let me explain. I've spent a good amount of time with a lot of the other Victors, but they often overlook Gio because he's… Well, a bit odd, after winning his Games. I guess they just kind of figure that he doesn't have any good advice. The few times I've talked to him he's spent talking to spirits of tributes from his Games. Anyways, after he mentioned that detail about your belief in those kinds of things I decided to do this._

 _I had dinner with Gio and did my best to understand his story, why he acted how he did. Try to get wisdom and advice from him. I guess I hoped that understanding him better would help me understand some aspect of you better._

 _I didn't think I'd have a good time, but I did. Once I let go of my proud beliefs, it turns out hat he's got a LOT to share. He's very wise, even though people don't think he is. And when I listened to him talk about the ghosts that haunted him, openly, I acquired a new outlook. Learning his story really inspired me, how he went from a homeless boy to someone with so much, but someone who had lost so much too. I got a new respect for him. And, he's fun, too. I had a really good time with him, and we're going to meet again for dinner this month._

 _Thank you for opening my mind to new things like this. It was totally interesting. Sometime I want to go to District Seven with him, where there's not light and smoke pollution and the stars are clear to infinity. I hope you're doing well up there._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Tempest,_

 _I just got back from the most emotional morning I've had since you left this world, far too early._

 _Go out on a boat and watch a District Four sunrise._

 _I was up tremendously early, and on a train to District Four. I was not going to let Snow keep me from fulfilling my bucket list. Hells no. I know you wouldn't have, so I was inspired. I took some friends with me, the people I'm fostering at home and some of my friends from home and school. I know how you loved your friends, and I wanted them to experience this with me._

 _It was chilly, out on the ocean. I never expected it to be so chilly. I had Ricco, the 38_ _th_ _Victor, take us out on his boat. He even showed me how to fish, just like you would have done with your brother, except on a ship much smaller than this, probably one without a motor. I can't imagine that!_

 _It was… Everything I thought it would be. I can't honestly say I know why you were so infatuated with the sunrise. I mean, I know why you would be, it's absolutely beautiful. But I think it had some other meaning for you, some kind of special meaning. Ricco told me about your synesthesia, which is totally awesome. I wonder if that's what you saw in Ezie. Maybe that's why he's your sunrise. Or maybe my romantic heart's just dreaming again like it does._

 _Anyways, it was… Tremendous. I sat next to Proud and Amaze and watched it. It was probably the best sunrise I ever saw. Maybe it's because I was thinking of you while I watched it. I couldn't help but cry a bit. I know you wouldn't, you were always so strong, but I really missed you out there. It was absolutely amazing, surreal, everything I thought it would be and more._

 _I can't believe that some people have the chance to see this beauty every day of their lives. Even so, I feel… So incredibly grateful that I got to experience it, even if it was only once. I will never forget the beautiful sight, and the joy of being with friends. I hope that you and Ezie are together and well, and that I can somehow uphold the tremendous legacy of the golden child._

 _Yours,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Branden,_

 _I JUST HAD THE MOST… AMAZING DAY. HOLY SHIT._

 _I'm still a bit giddy about it, to be honest. I just had so much fun today. Oh my gosh, I fucking love District Four! Today I completed your item on my bucket list._

 _Learn how to surf! And show off with it, of course._

 _Today, I had the pleasure of Ricco and a couple of his buds teaching me how to surf. AND IT WAS SO COOL! I had such a good time! I had no idea that surfing could be that… Well, amazing! It was so much fun, once I got the hang of it. Ricco and his friends were super encouraging. Now, I couldn't have possibly outdone them like you could have, but towards the end there I was starting to look pretty cool there. Or, well, I thought I was cool._

 _You were actually cool, though. I just pretend to be sometimes._

 _Anyways, it was totally cool. I thought surfing would be a good fit to honor you because it's done in the water, but also because it's totally a rush, just like you loved. And, to be honest, I've been training for cross country for month, and training for another competitive sport while taking classes while caring for eight others and training to climb a mountain just seems a bit like overkill._

 _So, I decided to go for something fun and totally cool, and a total rush. It was absolutely AMAZING. I thought about you all day. I bet you would have been much better at it than me. And if you weren't, then you would have worked until you were. You wouldn't have let a girl from One beat you on your own home turf! And I admire you so much for that._

 _Anyways, I'm still super pumped. Tired, and hungry, but pumped. It was totally SPECTACULAR and I would come back and do it again any day! I hope you're doing alright, and your heart isn't too broken, haha. Eh, I bet you're pretty resilient._

 _Cowabunga!_

 _Yours,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Static,_

 _I really wasn't sure what to do for you. I mean, I really didn't know you. Most of the time, I didn't even know your name. Now I do, though. Now I do and I'll never forget it, I promise. I promise that I won't forget. I could never forget you._

 _I spent a while trying to figure out what I could possibly do for you. After all, you went through a lot before leaving this earth._

 _I was just kind of hanging out, talking to a couple of Academy students, when I figured out what it could be._

 _Stand up to a bully._

 _In this case, there was a group of bullies. I was observing the Academy students training and couldn't help but notice a group of guys bothering one of their own. It was eighteen-year-olds, and they were bothering a sixteen year old. The sixteen-year-old, Champion, is at the top of his class, but the group wouldn't spar with him because they knew he was gay._

 _Now, I'm not usually the type to instigate conflict, I'm really not. But I had a fire in my gut, oh man it was bad. So I decided to channel my inner you. You were never afraid to stand up for what you thought was right, and that's respectable. I went over and beat their ringleader's ass. It was a glorious moment. And he lost his number one spot because I said so, and the other Victors listen to me._

 _I dealt out some justice today. It feels pretty good. I could get used to standing up for myself. I probably should have learned how to all those years ago. Anyways, thanks for showing me what it's like to assert yourself until the very end._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Torque,_

 _I had no problem coming up with what I should do for you. My heart hurts for you every day, fam. (Sorry… Only you say that, right? I won't say it again. I guess it's, like, your thing.)_

 _You were the most family-oriented person I ever met. The way you were so devoted to your sister Ree. Oh, you'd be so glad to know how well she's doing. She's been saved, she's healing. I know you put so much pressure on yourself to make sure she was okay. And you blamed yourself for so many things that were out of your control. I hope you've found some kind of peace._

 _Today I fulfilled your item on my bucket list, which I will now tape here._

 _Hug each of my family members and tell them everything I love about them._

 _It's so easy to forget to do that. It's so easy to just… Well, to take it for granted. But yes, I have a family. A big, wild, crazy family that would do anything for me. A family in which my siblings are my absolute best friends. A family so full of love and energy, parents that support me for who I am, and my siblings too. Sure, we've had our quarrels, but… We never let it get us down. We still love each other just as much._

 _My mother tells me all the time how thankful she is for me coming back alive. She learned the same lesson as me, really. Not to take it for granted. Life and family are so special, and I'm blessed to have both. I can't say the same for everyone else. I love my family and they need to know it, just in case something were to happen to myself or to any of them, they would know how much I appreciate them and care._

 _I'm not sure if you told your family you loved them often, but I feel like they knew. You were so incredibly loyal, and selfless. I so admire that about you. You're spectacular. I'm so glad I learned your story, even if the end is sad. I hope that there's some source of hope for you and your family, somewhere in there._

 _I had a great day, making a list for my family about why I love each of them. I'm not ashamed of hugging my parents, having my father kiss me on the top of the head. I spent quality time with each one of them to tell them how much I love them. It was such a good, peaceful, wonderful day that filled my spirits up with hope. Thank you for reminding me how important that is._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Isa,_

 _I had a really, really great day today. Ah, you would have loved it, I know you would have._

 _Be the leader of a hiking team._

 _That's right, today I decided to get a group of trainees together and go on a hiking trail! I know you were from District Six, but I'm sure you would have loved it. One of your primary qualities was your leadership, and I respect that so much._

 _You were brave, and not afraid to take the reigns even though you were a young girl. People that said you couldn't do it, but you didn't care. You carried through your plans until the very bitter end. You were so brave and unafraid. I decided, why not lead something for once?_

 _So, I gathered a group of Academy trainees and took them out to the woods. Man, it was absolutely beautiful, I know you would have loved it. The sky was perfectly blue, the clouds were puffy and floated lazily across the sky. I was first, and I chose the path we took and I also got us lost. Horribly lost. Luckily, we worked as a team to get back, just like you and your allies were a team. I got bit by, like, a million bugs, but it was worth it. At least I didn't end up like the poor kid that stepped in poison ivy. Yikes._

 _Anyways, today was an amazing day. Before the Games, I hated going in the woods, and today I went and waded in a giant mud pit up to my shins. It was so much fun. And, the companionship of having people behind me that had my back was wonderful too. Made me think of you._

 _I am so, so sorry for stealing your life away. I hope someday you'll forgive me._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy Chandler_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Wyatt,_

 _Today was a really life-changing day for me._

 _Take a vow of silence for 24 hours._

 _Yes, today I decided that I would be qu-wyatt like you. (Haha, get it?! I'm laughing my ass off right now, agh I'm so funny.) So, I did. I took a vow of silence. I wasn't sure if this was too literal, but it was surprising how much more I noticed when I wasn't constantly running my mouth._

 _Now, I'm a bit of a chatterbox. I can go on and on, and never stop. I can admit that. Sometimes I talk too much about Whimsy, Whimsy Whimsy Whimsy, until I'm sure everyone else is tired of hearing it. So today I decided to do something different._

 _It's amazing. I was observing so much more. I never realized how blue Brisk's eyes are when he's really excited about something. I never realized how Cheshire's cheeks still go red when Glow kisses her temple in public. I never realized how beautiful my mother really is, not just in the motherly way, actually in the radiantly pretty way. She's so beautiful. And, of course, I never realized how melodic Pygmy's voice is. When she was younger she always used to squeal and be hyper, but now that she's eleven she's calmed down a bit and her voice is just so… Pretty. Smooth. Flowing. I never realized how adorable Amaze's dimples are. And oh, Proud. I never realized how dashing they've become. Dashing and mature, as well. And, of course, I never realized how smart Cookie is. She followed me around all day and seemed pretty concerned about me._

 _I really liked being silent for a day. I think I'll do it again next year. December fifth. Your birthday._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Sequoia,_

 _I'm still shaking as I'm writing this so excuse the shitty handwriting._

 _Today was AMAZING and seriously I will never forget it, oh God. Every second was an absolute rush, it was absolutely wonderful. Oh man. You would have had SO MUCH FUN if you were here._

 _Go bungee jumping!_

 _When I was considering what to do for you, one scene in particular came to mind. The very beginning, when you were in the pit. The first thing you did was grab the rope and swing, no fear. You were laughing, you weren't afraid. I bet you're a real adrenaline junkie. Or you would have been, if you hadn't lived in District Seven and worked for your family._

 _So, I went to a place in the Capitol, and it was absolutely NUTS. It was so high, with only a piece of elastic saving me from hitting the ground. Man, it was such a rush. I could feel my heart pounding._

 _The first time, I screamed, a lot. Like, a LOT. But the rush was so good. I went again and this time the screams were less out of paralyzing fear and more out of total thrill. Oh man, you should have been there. It was fucking spectacular._

 _Holy fuck. It was such a rush. I was there with Amaze, Glow, and Brisk. The companionship of having my friends there was totally amazing. So much screaming happened. I can't even put the rush into words. I was totally afraid, you probably wouldn't have been if you were there, but man, I was. I hope you're proud of me for facing my fear and going for it though._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Tomer,_

 _You're a tricky one. I really had no idea where to go to represent you in any way, shape, or form. I mean, there was the vow of silence, but I already did that. Gee, you were a challenge. Luckily, though, I got to talk to Luther about you, and he let me in on a piece of information about you that I didn't know: You were an artist!_

 _He kept one of the drawings you did to calm yourself down on the train. It's great, like, really really damn good. I was really, REALLY impressed. Now, I'm not even going to pretend that I can ever even dream of comparing to your talent, but I decided what to do in your honor._

 _Take art/painting classes!_

 _I'm currently in school working on a counselling degree, but there are a lot of recreational and elective art classes. So, I decided to spend some extra time taking one._

 _It was totally worth it. I think I've really gotten an appreciation for painting now. Even though I'm no good at it, not like you were, I still like it as a hobby. I would never, ever show anything I painted to anyone, but it's nice to do when I'm by myself._

 _I also really like to paint my nails. Not the same, I know. At least I can paint my nails without leaving the lines. I like to make designs sometimes, too. And using real paint on a canvas is basically the same thing. Making swirls and patterns is therapeutic for me, with all the different colors. I wonder if you and Tempest would have gotten on well, considering you both have such eyes for color._

 _I so admire your creativity, and even if I don't have your gift, I understand it, why art was such a part of you and what you used to cope with, and I'm so grateful for that._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Abigail,_

 _Oh Abigail. Your chance was taken away so quickly, so early. I barely got to learn anything about you. I decided to talk to your mentor and see if there was anything he could have said about you. What I came to understand was that you were just an awkward young girl. There was nothing tremendously special about you, but you know what, that's okay._

 _So, I thought about it for a while, but I came up with something._

 _Write encouraging things on Post-It Notes and stick them on lockers in the middle school._

 _Okay, so District One does have schools, but to be safe I also put some on lockers where the younger trainees keep their clothes. The goal here was to give some of those kids some anonymous love. After all, I think you understood how incredibly tough it was to be so young, going through such an awkward time._

 _In your honor, I wanted to spread some positivity, try to make people feel good about themselves and spread love. The messages were simple. "You're beautiful!" "You're doing good!" "Keep going!" I drew lots of balloons and smiley faces. I just want to make some of them smile. "You are loved!" "Give it your all!", stuff like that._

 _It was fun sticking them everywhere. I didn't get to see anyone's reactions, but if one little girl picked it up and felt loved, beautiful, even for just a second… That's what I wanted to do. You were beautiful, too, and never got to know it. I'm so, sorry for that. I'm going to do my best for girls like you from now on, I promise._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Trekker,_

 _I have WAITED_

 _FOR_

 _SOOOOOO_

 _LONG_

 _TO_

 _DO_

 _YOUR_

 _TASK_

 _HOLY_

 _SHIT_

 _Slap Bronx Stringer across the face. Just once._

 _Okay, so this one is pretty self-explanatory. I mean, I know that you had some beef with him, and you never really got to let him have it because he was your mentor. I can't say that I know everything that happened between you, but Bronx let me in on some of the details._

 _I didn't want to do this too soon, because I do know that he was really, really torn up about losing you. Y'know, I think that the big doof actually cared about you a lot more than you ever knew. Even so, I put this on the list, and I was going to do it. Every once in a while Bronx just makes a comment that is punch-worthy._

 _I waited for a couple months after my Tour. As Bronx always does, he got back up on his feet. He's actually pretty nice, if you catch him in his good moments. Obviously, his good moments are rarer than his Bronx moments, but he tries. I know he tries. He's been trying really hard and nobody acknowledges him for it. I just try to be positive and reassuring._

 _But today, I finally got the opportunity, and I did it. I slapped Bronx Stringer across the face, just for you, Trekker. Oh my, I bet you were laughing so hard in heaven. I warned him it was coming about a second too late for him to brace himself or prepare. It left a pretty impressive red mark. He was pretty cool about it, not mad or anything (thank goodness). I just had to._

 _I know that a slap across the face isn't really equal to your heartbreak, but I hope that you can see, or feel, how much he misses you. He really did care. I just slapped him for being really fucking bad at showing it, all for you. I put your rage into it, too. I'm sure it must have hurt tremendously. I hope you laughed, because it actually was pretty funny._

 _Wherever you are, I wish nothing but healing onto you._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy Chandler_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Linnea,_

 _You're a toughie, too, my friend. You were like Wyatt and Abigail, quiet and pretty shy. I went to Pierce and Brody and asked them what they could tell me about you. They weren't very helpful, but one interesting thing they said was that you weren't afraid to swallow your pride and ask for help. After that, I put some thought into it, and here's what I came up with it._

 _Sit down with someone elderly and ask them for wisdom and advice._

 _Now, I've had meals with a lot of Victors, I even ate meals with my professors. But I didn't get a lot of help from older people. I guess I always just figured that I had plenty of adult influence. But, on my journey through my bucket list, and my adventure to put together a mosaic of stories from other people, I decided this was the next place to look._

 _It was really really neat. I'm not used to asking for help, but this time I did. I visited some people at a nursing home and had a meal with them. Their experiences are pretty different from mine, but a lot of the people I talked to lived during the times before the Dark Days. They were full of amazing stories, and I really feel like I learned a lot about life._

 _Also, I played bingo with them. It was so intense. I even won a round!_

 _Overall, though, it was an amazing night. One of the ladies even taught me how to make quilts! I'm so bad at it, but it was really fun to watch her. I think I might go back sometime, there's still plenty to learn from them if I'm willing to swallow my pride and listen. It was a great, fun opportunity that I was really glad to have._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Beo,_

 _Well, I did it. I finally did it._

 _Read_ _The Lord of the Flies_ _._

 _This one was a no-brainer. There was really only one way to even begin to start understanding you, District Nine's bookworm._

 _You were such a complex person, and there's no way I could ever… Even hope to start understanding how your mind worked. It's sad that it came to this, though._

 _Even though I can never fully understand you, I at least have the means by which to start. Now I understand what you meant when you said that the face paint is symbolic. This is one of the first tasks I've been able to compete since I made the bucket list. I just had to find some time to sit and read it. The more I read it, the more connections I made to you._

 _The end is haunting. A little bit too relatable._

 _Now I understand the mindset you were in. Now I understand why you did the things that you did. You knew that you had to do them. You were smart enough to know that the only way to win was becoming a savage. You were so fucking bright, and nobody noticed or cared. I'm so sorry for that._

 _The whole nation sees you as the villain, because that's how you saw yourself. That's so wrong, and so sad. I hate the thought that someone with such potential will forever be seen as the villain._

 _Jack Merridew became a savage because he was so afraid. He took his fear and the others' and turned it into something terrible. But, in his heart, he was just afraid. Just like you, right? You were just afraid. When I rewatch the horror that is our Games, I can see it in your eyes. You didn't know what to do. You were just afraid, just like the rest of us. You pretended to be brave, but you weren't. You were a human. And that was your fatal flaw._

 _You tried to be something that wasn't human. So you went to literature. You wanted to be a savage, so you put yourself into the shoes of a savage. Until you lost yourself. Just like you wanted. I understand why you did what you did. I doubt I'll ever fully understand you, but that's okay. I have plenty of other books to read before I'll even get close._

 _Either way, reading this book kind of helped me to face my fears, in a way. I was terrified of doing this, for fear that I would relate too much to the savages. But, this isn't about the savages. The book is about so much more than that. It's about the desperation of humans that are forced to survive. It's about the manifestation of fear in the hearts of the innocent. About the pressures of war, death, violence, turning little boys into horrible people they're not. I actually enjoyed the read a lot more than I thought. Thank you for that. I'll try to read more often when I'm out of school._

 _Here's to hoping you've defeated every beast that stands in your way, brave hero. 19._

 _Yours,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Lindsay,_

 _Today was such a GREAT DAY! I knew I was going to love this and I really, really did._

 _I think it's a no-brainer what I had to do in order to honor your memory and spread your legacy._

 _Spend a day volunteering at an animal shelter!_

 _Of course, your interview inspired me. The light in your beautiful blue eyes when you received the puppy to hold was just wonderful. When I thought about you, I immediately knew that the best way to honor your beautiful memory would be through helping animals in need._

 _I wanted to go to District Ten and watch over some strays, but I just couldn't get there. I'm sorry about that. But, I did get to volunteer in a humane shelter in the Capitol! It was absolutely amazing! I had so much fun!_

 _I had so much fun. Sure, I got my hands dirty picking up shit, hairballs, and vomit and bathing dirty puppies, but the love the animals showed was totally worth it. The puppies were so cute, their tails wagged at a million miles a minute. The kittens were great too. I got to play with them for a whole half an hour, it was so amazing._

 _I wasn't sure what I would think about caring for animals, but I had the time of my life. The shelter employees were absolutely amazing, all of them were super nice and patient. While I was there, I got to give puppies a bubble bath, and bubbles got absolutely everywhere! I got wet when one of them jumped out of the tub to jump on me. They're a lot to handle, but they're absolutely wonderful. The feeling of knowing that the puppies were all clean and slept well all because of me. And the kittens, oh my God. They were SO sweet. Oh, Lindsay, you would have loved them. I got to play with them and dangle ribbon for them to try and claw at. They were soooooo cute! I had an absolute ball today._

 _I wasn't sure how I'd feel about this when I started, in all honesty, but I was SUPER pleasantly surprised! Now I can totally see why you fought so hard for animals in need, and why you had such a good time with that puppy at your interview. I don't blame you, I always want to hang out with puppies and kittens!_

 _I've never had a pet before, but I left with one today! She's a little Yorkshire Terrier named Cookie. I was not prepared for a puppy at all, so I got a play fence while the others puppy-proofed some of the rooms for her. Next thing is potty training… That's bound to be another adventure of its own._

 _Today was amazing, I'm so excited to have this opportunity and I hope that I'm going to be a great owner for little Cookie. Ah, she wants to take this letter! Sorry it's ripped at the corner!_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Hartwin,_

 _I… Hope you're not mad at me. For giving you something on my list. I know, I killed you, and it was horrible of me. I never forget. I think about it every day. I can't come up with a single reason why I should live and you shouldn't. I'm really sorry. I just can't._

 _But, I hope that I've been living the kind of life you would want your Victor to live. I really don't want you to have died for nothing. I'm going to do everything I possibly can to carry on all of your legacies._

 _I watched your final eight interviews, and that's when I came up with what to do for you._

 _Learn how to horseback ride!_

 _I honestly had no idea what it's like to be on a horse. But I know it was something that you did as a day's work. I would have absolutely loved to go to District Ten and learn from your family, your sisters, from Leary or Mona Lee. I just couldn't make it happen. I know, I'm really sorry. Some Capitolite isn't going to teach me the same ways as your family would. I know that it doesn't even come close to the real thing._

 _That being said, the experience was absolutely wonderful. The horse I got to ride was a beautiful gray horse named Tin. Tin was really gentle and nice, good for beginners. I wonder if you got to ride on a nice calm horse. Maybe you had to learn on a bucking bronco. I don't know._

 _It was really an amazing experience. I loved to feel the wind on my face. I started walking but soon I learned how to make the horse trot and run. I was jumping hurdles and oh my goodness was it fun! Much more intense than I thought. It takes a lot of coordination to ride well._

 _Afterwards, I went on a walk down a horse trail with some of the other riders. We even had the horses wade through a pond. It was so much fun. At one point, one of the young man's horses started walking around in circles, and nobody could stop it! It was pretty funny to watch. Luckily for me, Tin was super cooperative and gentle._

 _Today, I gained an enormous respect for those gentle beasts, and the people that ride them. I had a lot of fun, but it takes a lot of dedication to really make that bond with a horse and get it to cooperate how you want. I respect all your hard work, Hartwin. I hope you'll forgive me someday._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Amy,_

 _I had a really neat day today!_

 _Let me explain. It's finals week this week, and everyone is kind of crazy stressed. So I decided now would be the perfect time for me to fulfill your item on my bucket list._

 _Pick flowers and give them to strangers_

 _I chose this for you because you were such a delight all the time, and, of course, you're named after a beautiful flower. So today I decided to buy some flowers and hand them out to strangers. The Capitolite college students had some pretty… Drastic reactions to Whimsy Chandler, Victor of the 42_ _nd_ _Hunger games, giving them a flower in their worst times._

 _I just want to smile and help people, just like you did. You were sweet, but shy. I want to spread the joy that you gave to your family and friends, and allies. I want to cheer people up as best as I can and do something with my Victory._

 _Unfortunately, it's hard to do anything nice without getting all this publicity got it, just because I'm Whimsy Chandler, everything I do makes headlines. That's pretty sad, because sometimes I wish I could go back to just being a stranger to people, a nobody, a pretty girl nobody thinks is worth hitting on. Now, everyone knows how I am. Everyone wants to talk to me and when I do something nice, it's escalated so the whole world knows. That's pretty sad._

 _But, that didn't take away from the fact that I'm doing my best to make people smile. The way the girls' eyes lit up as they took it from my hand, the way the boys blushed and smiled and exchanged looks with their friends. One girl told me it was the best day of her entire life. So I guess it's something. If I have all this fame and fortune, I might as well use it to make other people happy. After all, that's what made you happy._

 _And that's what makes me happy too._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Elias,_

 _Today, I got my report card. And I PASSED! YAAAS!_

 _Take a logic class._

 _So, I had to wonder what to do in honor of the wildly intelligent Wilder, and that's what I came up with. Obviously, your intelligence is a special talent, and I will never be able to be as naturally intelligent and clever as you were. Ha, not a prayer. But, in your honor, I decided to take a logic class at school. It was full of different brain puzzles._

 _Let me tell you, you would absolutely have loved this. You would have succeeded, that's for sure. There was a girl who was REALLY FUCKING GOOD AT IT. Like, probably your level good. I asked her for help a lot._

 _Logic isn't really something you can learn. It's something you either know or you don't know. In most cases, I just plain didn't know. But in some cases, I actually did figure it out by myself! And man, that's the best feeling in the entire world. Now I understand why you pursued knowledge. Yeah, logic takes a lot of time and effort to sit and work through, but when you finally reach the answer, you know it's right, and you just feel like dancing around your room, your kitchen, hell, your entire house! (I may have done this once or twice. I can't help it, I just whip when I'm happy and once I started it's hard to stop!)_

 _Anyways, I was not very good at logic. Turns out I don't have the naturally intelligent, logical brain that you do. Not that it's really all that surprising. I figured I might as well try, see if I have any kind of talent. Turns out, I don't._

 _But I passed, and that's what matters! Woo hoo!_

 _I mean, I tried my best, and basically got carried through the entire thing by Arabella, but I passed! And that's what matters! I know that you wouldn't accept meager passing, but my life is so fucking nuts right now, I will take that C plus and embrace it. I did get As in most of my major-specific classes, so I'm not a total chump._

 _Anyways, going through this class gave me a lot of respect for those people who are super duper smart. People unlike myself, of course. People that could pass this class with As, people that just hear these things and just completely understand them. Wow. Amazing. I could never. But, when I did get things, I felt pure joy and excitement, so I understand why it's worth the work._

 _You did your District proud with how far you got, my friend, and I respect you so much for that. You'd probably get an A in logic. I hope you can forgive me for my C._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whim-C (get it? :D)_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Aaron,_

 _You'll notice that this piece of paper is smaller than all the others, but there's a good reason why._

 _Keep a journal of all my deepest, emotional thoughts, and only write in it in complete solidarity in the woods._

 _This is the last page of said journal. I decided to go this route because you seemed like the thoughtful type of person. You were quiet and closed off, but loyal. I'm sure you had a lot of emotions and feelings that nobody ever knew about._

 _I'm a definite over-sharer, so for this project I decided to focus on things that not everyone needs to know. I need to learn to protect some aspects of my own privacy. It was healthy, I think. Telling a journal is great, because it's not oversharing but you still feel like you're telling someone._

 _It's really nice, though. The woods I found were beautiful, I've found a nice tree to sit under, and for once I force myself to do nothing but think about myself, mediate on how I'm feeling. I usually try to cope by filling up my schedule with things, stuff stuff STUFF, until I'm drowning. But sometimes, that's just too much. Sometimes I need to sit by myself, catch up with my emotions, and feel. And breathe._

 _I've already gotten myself another journal. I'm really glad I started this. I think it's healthy for me. In the hustle and bustle of my life as a Victor, I forget to take time for myself. I'm definitely going to keep it up._

 _Thank you, Zombie. Thank you for your sacrifice and your pensive nature. I will never forget it._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

 _Dear Monterey,_

 _So, my list up to this point had the female tributes first, so I bet you're wondering why I left you for last. To be honest, it's because I had absolutely no clue what to do for you. You were so bright and your imagination was amazing, I had no idea what I could possibly do to carry on your legacy and honor your memory._

 _I thought for a long time. I tried to think of every single time I interacted with you. I couldn't think of anything._

 _Then I remembered something. Something I guess I'd been trying to erase from my memory, probably so I could justify taking your life. Not cool of me, I know. I got emotional when I remembered, though. And I knew what I had to do._

 _Twirl ribbons in the circus_

 _I knew that I had to. You were so convinced that I was a ribbon twirler. When you said that to me, I was confused initially. But when I really thought about it, I was pleased._

 _The Ringmaster was pretty shocked when I approached him about it. After all, here I am, Whimsy Chandler, a Victor, with such an… Interesting request. Surely the first Victor to ever approach them. When I explained why, though, they were touched. And so I learned how to dance and twirl ribbons._

 _I felt pretty silly in so much make-up, but when I looked in the mirror I realized how graceful I looked. I planned a whole routine and there was a full house. The circus was in a dry spell in terms of attendance before (the first time I Watched it, there were only ten people in the audience), but when people heard that Whimsy Chandler was going to be there, the house was packed._

 _That's when the realized how fun the circus was. Yes, there were clowns, and a contortionist, and a woman who was shot out of a cannon, and people that rode motorcycles in a cage. Monterey, you would have loved to see it. I'm so sorry you didn't._

 _Either way, I hope you're proud of me. I hope I made you laugh wherever you are, and entertained._

 _And, even though I was definitely the least talented person there, the crowd made me feel great anyways. I filled the Arena each and every one of the five shows I danced for. You would have loved it, Monterey, you really would have._

 _I just got home after dancing my last show. It's close to 2:30 A.M. but I wanted to be up to write about it while I'm still on my hype. I had such an amazing time dancing and I know that you would have loved to see it. I hope I was able to honor your memory well. Rest well my dear._

 _Yours,_

 _Whimsy_

 _~.~.~.~._

Tears drip down my cheeks as I stack the papers, nice and neat again, and put them all back where they belong, nice and neat in the lunchbox. I can't help feeling so hopeless sometimes. But these letters remind me why I'm never going to give up.

The door opens to a concerned looking Discovery. "Whimsy?"

I sniffle and quickly dry my eyes as Cookie wriggles her way past his legs and jumps up on my bed, tail wagging as she licks the tears off of my cheeks. I can't help laughing at that.

"Cookie!"

"Sorry! Want me to get her off of you?" Discovery's eyes are wide, but I shake my head.

"No, it's alright." Cookie finally calms down and settles back down in my lap.

"Are you alright?"

I smile through misty eyes. "Yeah. It's just one of those mornings."

"Oh. Can I make you something for breakfast? I'm sure Love will help too…"

I smile at him. "Sure. Breakfast sounds great."

He ducks out of the room and I pat Cookie's head, causing her tail to wag. I wipe my cheeks and recite my motto.

"Another day, another new beginning."

Then I get dressed, brush my teeth, and head downstairs for breakfast, tummy rumbling the whole way down the steps.

~.~.

 _ **Wow. This was long as fuck. Sorry bout that. I just wanted to get everything in. Read at your own pace. But hey, a happy (ish) epilogue! Woo hoo!**_

 _ **Well, I can barely believe I'm saying this, but this is the end. The final chapter of Masque. I'm actually surprisingly emotional about this. But before I get all emotional about the story let me first say that Traveller submissions are open and you can reserve a spot if you want! And, I'll pop the CQ here too.**_

 _ **CQ: Which letter(s) was/were your favorite and why?**_

 _ **Also, any constructive criticism about the structure, format, or writing for this story to improve for Traveller is appreciated!**_

 _ **Alright, now I'll be sentimental for a moment, but first I just wanted to apologize to the submitters. I feel like a lot of these characters just got lost as compared to 36. I had a lot planned, I was going to do color palettes for each one, lots of drawings, design masks for each one, all that stuff, and I just… Didn't. I promised that the roles in the story weren't going to end after they died, but that pretty much fell through and it's really my fault. The first reason is because of the hiatus of this story in which I just had absolutely no idea what to do with it. The second reason is because I had really, REALLY tough relationship issues this year that made me barely want to write this story at all because of certain characters. Plus, a lot of submitters just disappeared on me, so I assumed you stopped reading and didn't want to use a bunch of time on characters from submitters I didn't even know were reading. So if you feel like your character got lost or muted, it's my fault and I'm sorry for that.**_

 _ **That being said, I can honestly say that this is my best story on fanfiction, which is why it's a shame that basically nobody's going to read it. The characters went through a lot of fantastic development and I put my entire heart and soul into this. (Maybe it's better that nobody reads this because I do a lot of venting that hits way close to home for me.) Anyways, I am really proud of this, and I am so, SO thankful to everyone who read and reviewed every chapter. You're the best, my pals.**_

 _ **So… Thanks Masque. You got me through the roughest time of my life, really. Without this story I don't know where I'd be. It contains the very real struggles of my characters that come straight from my own life. You gave me an outlet to let out those emotions and vent so much. And, of course, thanks Whimsy. You are a beautiful character who faced adversity and overcame it. You built yourself back up and healed. You made it, girl, and I can't wait to use you in Traveller.**_

 _ **I am optimistic for the future and hope that you join me for Traveller, which is going to be even better than this one, just you wait! Thank you again for each and every review and all your love and support for this story and for me, and I can't wait for the future.**_


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